A Daughter and a Soldier
by Euterpe's Bard
Summary: Myla joins the Daughters of Troy, a secret society of warrior women dedicated to protecting their homeland, before the Trojan War. When she is taken as a prisoner of war and "given" to Patroclus, she starts to question her choices. P/OC, rated for safety.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: If you've never read at least the shortened version of Homer's "Iliad," some stuff could get confusing. I recommend the one in Edith Hamilton's Mythology because everything not in the movie referenced here is explained in her version. It doesn't show up immediately so you have some time to read it, but be warned.

PS. _Helios_ was the god of the sun, not Apollo.

*****

I was up at dawn. Helios had just begun his daily chariot ride across the sky, painting it with all manner of bright, warm colors. I knew exactly why I had risen so early; today, our princes returned to Troy with news of their coordinated peace with the Greek nation of Sparta. For many years we had fought against each other and now, finally, we would fight with each other.

A set of footsteps approached me from behind where I sat on the knoll that the house was built into. My uncle and guardian, Fenthius, sat down next to me. For a time we silently watched the last remnants of the night sky over the western sea be swallowed up by the approaching sun.

"I know how anxious you are, Myla," he said to me finally, "but you really ought to have slept some more."

"How?" I asked. "Today is the most historic day of my life; I could not simply sleep through it."

"Nothing historic will happen before noon," he reminded me. "Besides, it would seem disrespectful if you were to fall asleep during the princes' homecoming."

"I don't think I'm in any danger of doing that," I laughed.

"All the same, Prince Hector was a personal friend of your father," my uncle reminded me. "You'll not want to act bored with him."

"Next you're going to remind me about how I almost went to live with him and Princess Andromache nine years ago."

Fenthius laughed and shook his head.

"You know me too well."

A moment of silence passed between us.

"It's a shame he couldn't come back and see my father in person," I said. My uncle sighed.

"It would be nice," he agreed. "But your father was not destined to see this day."

I said nothing, but kept my eyes on the far-off sea.

"He aged in the year between your mother's death and his."

I still did not speak. My uncle sighed and rose from his spot.

"I will wake your cousin and nephew," he said. "Oh, and _please_ try to have patience with Amanthe today."

In spite of my sudden bought of sadness, I could not help but smile.

"_You_ know _me_ too well uncle," I said as he walked away.

I dressed soon after while my uncle packed some things he was taking into the city and my cousin attempted to wrestle her son into his clothes. The one looking glass in the house was in the room I shared with Amanthe and Diones, and before I left I paused to examine my reflection in it. I had no conceded reason for doing this; seeing my face did not give me any type of narcissistic pleasure, but rather it interested me. My dark brown hair, the style of which was somewhere between waves and ringlet curls, fell to my shoulder blades when allowed to flow freely. I usually kept it pulled tightly behind my head rather than allow it to cascade over my strong, tanned shoulders like the other women of Troy did. I was muscled and bronzed from my daily work on the farm I lived at, and a little taller than most other women.

My eyes were always the last feature I examined, because throughout my life they had always proven a source of considerable hours of contemplation. At first glance they appeared a muddy brown, similar to the rivers that ran through the countryside. But, like the rivers, they were pierced by veins of green if one looked closer.

"Myla!" my cousin Amanthe called from outside. "Diones is getting impatient; please hurry up!"

I gave my strange eyes one last reflective glance in the mirror before hurrying outside.

Before noon, I waited in the streets of Troy with Fenthius, Amanthe, and Diones. Diones was not technically my nephew, but I still referred to him as such. His father, Trion, was a guard with the army, so he did not stand with us. We had managed to procure a place higher up and relatively close to the street the royal procession would be marching along. Finally the bells on top of the city walls began to ring, the gates opened, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Many of the bystanders threw flower petals as the princes made their way through the center of the city; I lifted Diones onto my shoulders so he could attempt to toss a handful of them down to the street.

As I put my nephew back down on the ground, I noticed something. A group of women stood off to the side of the crowds, talking in hushed tones. One of them caught my eye and said something to her companions. They turned and looked at me, and the one who glanced first nodded to me. I knew what they wanted, and after making sure my family was occupied I made my way over to them.

"Good day to you, Myla," the first and oldest woman said.

"Good day to you as well Kileis," I said to her.

Kileis and the other women looked around to make sure no one had noticed us before leaning closer to me.

"Are you ready Myla?" Kileis asked. "Could you be ready by tonight?"

My heart skipped several beats at her words. Of course I could be ready by tonight; I had been ready for several months. Finally, they had noticed.

I nodded in response, my mouth completely dry. Kileis smiled and nodded back.

"Meet in the grove once the moon has risen," she instructed me. The group disbanded, and I went back to stand near my family while my heart pounded in my chest.

Once the royal procession had entered the palace gates, the crowds at the street started to disperse. We were about to head back when a soldier approached us.

"Myla, daughter of Demitus?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"Prince Hector would like to see you at the palace," the guard said. "He asked me to escort you back."

I looked to my uncle, who simply smiled and nodded.

"You know how to get back when you're done," he said. He nodded to the guard and made his way to where Amanthe and Diones waited.

I followed the soldier through the streets of Troy, where joy and frivolity had finally given way to commerce and business. We approached the gates of the royal palace and climbed a long set of stairs until we entered the main foyer. There were people mulling about whose social positions I could only imagine, all clustering to greet the newly returned princes. Hector was talking to his wife Andromache and fawning over his son Astyanax, while Paris was saying hello to his cousin Briseis. Briseis and I had known each other since I had known Hector (which was basically my whole life), and we were good friends. As King Priam explained to his sons that she had decided to become an acolyte in the temple of Apollo, she caught my eye and waved. Hector noticed, and smiled at me. As everyone else went away, he walked over and embraced me.

"Myla!" he said. "It's wonderful to see you again. You've grown since I left."

"It's wonderful to see you as well, Hector," I laughed. Though it was odd, I had never had any restrictions about addressing him as I would a friend, despite the obvious difference in our places in society.

His wife, noticing I had arrived, hurried over with her son.

"Andromache! Astyanax! My goodness, he's gotten big!"

After a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries, Hector and I went out to talk in one of the gardens. He seemed to make a concerted effort to steer the conversation to what I had been doing during his absence, which made me suspect that there was something not quite right.

"So you've been spending all your time in the fields or the library?" he asked with a laugh. "Aren't there any young men you could be chasing after?"

"You know what all the young men think of me," I pointed out. "If I were to chase after them, they would turn tail and run the opposite direction."

"Only the ones who haven't gotten to know you well enough," he countered. "If you would like, I know a few who would be more than happy have that opportunity."

I shook my head good-naturedly. Ever since I had come of age, Hector had tried from time to time to get me involved with various young men of social importance. Every time, I politely refused.

"Thank you, but you know my plans for the future," I reminded him.

"Your uncle will have plenty of help on his farm once Diones grows older," Hector pointed out. "You've always been a selfless person Myla, but mark my words: one day you will give in to your impulses."

"On the subject of selflessness," I said, trying to prod him into talking about what had happened in Sparta, "how did the negotiations go?"

Instantly, his face darkened. He turned his head to look out over the rooftops of the city and sighed.

"The negotiations went fine," he said, anger coloring his tone. "The trouble occurred after we left."

I thought back to the first greetings in the foyer of the palace to try to remember if anyone else had seemed upset, but before I could another thought occurred to me.

"Does it have anything to do with the woman who was with your brother?" I asked. Hector snorted irately.

"It has everything to do with them," he muttered.

"Who is she?"

"Helen," he said. "Helen of…well, quite frankly I'm not sure what she's calling herself anymore."

"Where is she from?"

"She _was_ the queen of Sparta," he admitted, "but I suppose she's a princess of Troy now."

It took a moment for the effect of this statement to sink in. When it did, I was in shock. I didn't know what to say, but suddenly I realized why Kileis and the other women were finally ready to admit me.

"Does he know what this means?" I asked quietly.

"He does now," Hector said, not bothering to clarify whom we were referring to. "I made sure of that."

We sat in silence for a while longer before the prince sighed and shook his head.

"You are young," he said, turning to me and trying his hardest to smile. "Such things are not your concern."

"Troy is my home," I reminded him. "To some degree, I think it's everyone's concern."

He nodded tiredly.

"I should be getting home," I said, rising from the bench where we were sitting. "It _is_ wonderful to have you back."

Hector rose and hugged me again.

"It's wonderful to be back," he said. "Send my love to your family."

"I will."

I made my way to the gates of the city and across the plains to our farm nearby, all the while looking anxiously forward to the arrival of night.

*****

Once the sun had set and everyone in my house was asleep, I dressed as quietly as I could and slipped outside. Based on the stars in the sky I estimated I had about fifteen minutes until the rise of the moon, when I was supposed to meet Kileis and the others in the grove outside the city. I hurried as quickly as I could over the ground to the shade of trees that bordered our fields, and slipped between their trunks until I could see a light. I emerged onto a clearing where a bonfire had been lit low enough to not attract attention from the city. Standing in a circle around the fire were the older women from earlier that day, while off to the side in a cluster were some younger women of about my age or older. I joined their group and gazed curiously at the gathering.

Finally, Kileis stepped out from the circle. She and all the older women were dressed in battle armor, with short, bronze swords hanging at their sides. She pointed to the group.

"All those willing and able to join our ranks, step forward."

All of us obeyed her command and approached the fire. We were arranged into a smaller circle closer to the fire, facing the other group. For the first time, I noticed there were other women standing further away in similar armor, watching us.

Kileis drew her sword.

"Kneel."

We did, and she approached the fire and turned to the assembled women.

"Many years ago," she began, "our ranks were small. We were the wives, daughters, and sisters of our nation's soldiers, trained by a few them in the art of combat so we could defend ourselves should the need arise. Over time we became stronger, until we decided to join the men as guardians of our land. This is our legacy. We are the Daughters of Troy."

Each of the older women moved toward one of the kneeling and stood behind her. Kileis moved to me, and for the first time that evening I saw her smile discreetly.

"Which arm will you use in combat?" she asked. Around the fire, the others questioned their charges similarly.

"My left," I answered.

She took hold of my left arm and moved my dress so the back of my shoulder was exposed. I was unsure what exactly she was doing, but suddenly a searing pain spread out from my shoulder and a hissing sound came from behind me. Knowing it was part of the ceremony, I used all my self-restraint to keep from crying out. Something was removed from my skin and the noise stopped, but the pain continued.

Kileis stepped in front of everyone again and this time turned to face the new women. From what I could see of their faces, they were hurting as much as I was.

"From the time of our founding," Kileis explained, "all of our ranks must go through this same rite. The pain reminds you of what you will feel in battle, but once it is gone you may be proud knowing what you are."

Her voice dropped and her face softened.

"You are Daughters of Troy now," she told us. "I know you will hold the name with honor."

The official part of the gathering was now over. The other women from outside the circle came forward to greet the newest members. Kileis approached me and folded me into a grandmotherly embrace.

"Congratulations," she smiled. She pressed a small vial with a clear salve into my hand. "This will help your shoulder until it heals."

"Thank you," I said. "I'm honored to be able to join."

"I knew you would be."

I mulled around in the grove for a while until I decided to go back to the farm. The newly risen moon provided ample light for my walk back, and the poultice was helping to quell the burning pain in my shoulder. I wanted to get back and look in the mirror to see what the mark on my skin looked like, but I knew I would have to do it when no one was around to notice. Amanthe would have a fit if she knew what I had done, and my uncle, being a pacifist, would rant at me about the evils of war. Despite what I knew would happen if they discovered me, however, it was with the thought of my family that I had departed for the grove that night. I had joined the ranks of the secret society of warrior-women to protect them, and no matter what else happened that was what I intended to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Again, I had risen before dawn. I expected the soldiers from Greece to arrive any day now to reclaim the stolen queen, and I was determined to honor my duty as a Daughter of Troy when the time came to do so. Yesterday when I was alone I had found my father's old armor and hidden it under my bed so I could find it quickly and be off to join the rest of the army before my uncle or cousin realized I was gone.

I had also gotten the chance to examine my shoulder. The mark had healed surprisingly fast, and now it was simply a slightly red, raised section on the bottom center of my shoulder blade. It was roughly the width of three of my fingers when held sideways, and it depicted a horse – the symbol of Troy – with an owl perched on its back, sitting in the bowl of a crescent moon. The owl was the bird of Athena, goddess of the craft of war, and the moon was for Artemis, our divine huntress.

I stood in front of our house now, watching the far-off sea for signs of the invading army. I had no idea how many ships to expect: ten, perhaps? Fifteen? Whatever the amount, I knew that I must be ready.

I felt a tug on my dress and looked down to see Diones standing next to me. When I noticed him he held up his arms and grinned broadly.

"Wanna play Ped-sis," he said. "Up! Up!"

I smiled and lifted him onto my shoulders. The game he was referring to was "Pegasus." We had invented it about a year ago, and it basically consisted of Diones sitting on my shoulders and me running around pretending to be the famous winged horse. This I did gladly on that morning, for even though I knew I would have to go fight I could not say I was looking particularly forward to leaving my family behind with the knowledge that I might never see them again.

We ran around in front of our house for a few minutes before my nephew shouted, "Faster!" I obliged, and soon we were laughing breathlessly as I continued darting in circles.

Suddenly, I froze. The warning bells on top of the city had been struck. Diones tried to prompt me to continue, but I slipped him off my shoulders and shushed him.

"Go find Mamma," I told him. He was a smart child, and obeyed without question. I hurried into the house with him just as Amanthe came rushing to the door.

"Where's Fenthius?" I asked her. I couldn't see him in the house.

"He went out to the fields early," my cousin told me. I could tell she was scared. "Myla, what's happening?"

"Take Diones, and go find him," I instructed her. "Then run to the city as fast as you can."

"What about you?" she asked worriedly.

"Just go!"

Though my cousin could be obstinate sometimes, she was very good at taking orders under pressure. She scooped up her son and bolted for the fields while I slipped into the room. I knew I didn't have a lot of time before they returned with my uncle, but luckily the armor proved easier to get into than I had expected. Dressed like a man, I dashed out the front door and headed towards the walls of the city. There were other men from the countryside headed my way, so I slid into their group and vanished from the eyes of my family.

Inside Troy, everything was mass chaos. People were running about shouting, gathering up their valuables and their families, and heading for cover. Soldiers were running to the armory to be outfitted for war or shepherding people out of the streets.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You, soldier!" I turned to see a man dressed in similar armor standing before me. "Go get your spear and shield! There's no time for delaying."

I nodded and followed another group of men to the armory. Inside I was handed the necessary equipment and was standing with another group of fully outfitted soldiers awaiting instructions, when I heard a familiar voice.

"Tacton! Is the Apollonian Guard ready?"

I cursed under my breath and tried to hide behind some other men. I should have assumed that Hector would come down to supervise for a while before going out to fight himself, but if he saw me all would be undone. I stayed in the middle of the group, which to my advantage was growing larger every minute, while Hector gave more orders to some of his other generals. As he left he passed dangerously close to where I was standing, and I had to pretend my sandal had become unlaced to give myself an excuse to duck down until he had passed.

Soon after he left, my group of foot soldiers was led outside and shuffled into lines. The Apollonian Guard, to my great relief, had already left. The man in charge of us stood out in front once we were arranged and looked at us.

"Soldiers of Troy!" he shouted. "Today you have been called upon to defend it. You understand the risks, and you understand the rewards. Go now and fight for your land, your people, and your home!"

We sent up a singular cry, thrusting our spears into the air. Around me, I almost thought I could hear other voices not quite deep enough to be male raised in defense of that which the general had just spoken of. The thought gave me courage, and for a moment the thought of my family, who by now had evidentially noticed I was missing, passed out of my mind.

We started marching forward across the plains away from the city, headed for the beach. I could see the ships now, and my breath caught in my throat. There were many more than the ten or fifteen I had earlier speculated; there were hundreds! I could only guess how many soldiers had been brought from Greece to our shores, and again I was more than a little frightened. The man next to me obviously had the same thoughts, for he offered up a quick and earnest prayer to Apollo for protection.

It took us a while to reach the beach on foot, but when we did we saw that two boats had already landed. Our general released us in a charge towards the advancing Greek soldiers, and I steeled myself as I ran. An enemy fighter set his eye on me as our forces clashed, and he sent his spear hurdling in my direction. I managed to sidestep the projectile and let it fall to the ground behind me as the man drew his sword. Before he could I thrust my spear at him, and he fell. I grabbed the weapon again and tried not to look at his limp form lying in the dust.

As the battle raged, I happened to look up at the temple of Apollo that sat on a cliff overlooking the beach. A group of differently dressed Greeks were rushing inside as two men stood on the steps talking. As I watched, one of them drew his sword and severed the head from the statue of Apollo while the other looked on in shock.

I would have dwelt on this desecration of the effigy more if the thought of the temple did not remind me of something more important: Briseis. She and the priests would not have had enough time to seek refuge behind the city walls like everyone else, so chances were that she was probably still there. I knew there was a back way into the temple, so I slipped away from the main fighting and rushed towards it.

Inside, the men whom I had seen running inside were looting the offering places and destroying anything not of value. I could see nearby the blood-soaked bodies of two priests, but thankfully Briseis was not lying dead with them.

Just as I was wondering where my friend was, I felt someone grab my armor and pull me backwards into a hidden corner in the wall. Turning, I saw exactly who I was looking for.

"Briseis!" I whispered in relief. She looked at me with a confused expression, and I realized I was probably unrecognizable in the darkness dressed as I was.

"It's Myla," I informed her as quietly as possible, lifting my helmet off so she could get a better look at my face. She was certainly shocked.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she hissed at me. "And dressed as a soldier, no less!"

"I _am_ a soldier," I told her. "It's a long story; I'll explain some other time."

We would have said more, but at that moment another voice in the temple called out, "Trojans!" and our conversation was cut short. Almost instantly silence descended, broken a few moments later by the sound of armored footsteps entering from the other side. I jumped as the sounds of battle ensued again.

"Come on," I whispered to Briseis. "We can go now."

"But they're fighting," she objected, trying her hardest to stay hidden in the shadows. "We could be killed!"

"The fighting means they're distracted," I told her. "If we go quickly, we won't be seen."

At that moment, a new voice spoke even closer to us. I cursed in my head as I realized our chance was blown.

"You were very brave, but very foolish, to come after me alone," a man I did not recognize said. His voice held the smug pride of those who think they cannot be defeated. "You must be Hector."

My heart skipped a beat, and beside me Briseis drew a quick breath.

"These priests weren't armed."

It was definitely Hector. The sound of rapid, shuffling footsteps was followed by the prince's outraged cry of, "Fight me!"

For a moment, the stranger seemed to consider his offer.

"Why kill you now, Prince of Troy," he decided, "with no one here to see you fall?"

The owner of the arrogant voice walked past our hiding place, and I identified him as the soldier who cut the head off the statue of Apollo. He did not seem in the least bit concerned that Hector was following closely behind him, and as soon as the two left the temple the rest of the Greek soldiers followed. Unfortunately for myself and Briseis, they blocked our only way out.

My friend was about to point this out to me, but I clamped a hand over her mouth and shook my head pointedly. Outside I could hear Hector give the command for the Trojans to head back to the city as the sounds of battle faded. The Greeks in front of us started to relax and discuss the recent battle, as well as the gold they had stolen from the temple. I waited in suspense for an opportunity to escape, knowing that the longer we had to delay, the harder it would be to get back to Troy.

Finally, I thought I saw our chance. It looked to me as though all the soldiers had left, so I inched forward with one hand on Briseis' wrist and the other on the hilt of my short sword. I didn't see anyone the closer to the exit we got, so I assumed we were safe.

I assumed wrong.

A thrown spear very narrowly missed my face. I turned and drew my sword just as the Greeks we had seen earlier came rushing towards us. Briseis screamed, and I tossed her towards the outside door.

"Run!" I shouted. She tried to obey, but her way was blocked by several more Greeks who grabbed her as she struggled.

I myself was faring little better. There were more soldiers left in the temple than I had expected, and rather than try to out-fight me they simply overwhelmed me. In the back of my mind, I was pleased to see that I had at least taken a few of them down in the altercation.

"Someone get that sword," a voice commanded. I clenched my fingers even tighter around the hilt, and it took three men to hold my arm steady and pry it away. I continued to thrash, but suddenly someone came up behind me and grabbed me under my arms, over my shoulders, and at the base of my neck. His hands wrapped beneath my chin and jerked my head back, so I had an upside-down view of a dark-bearded Greek with longer hair. Once he saw my face, he looked confused.

"Are you a soldier?" he blurted at me. The other men looked at him quizzically.

"What do you mean, Eudorus?" one of them asked. The man holding me jerked my head back down for the other soldiers to see, and a ripple of surprised conversation spread through them. Nearby, I could see Briseis being held by two soldiers; she had cuts on her nose and between her eyes.

"Well, what should we do with 'em?" someone else asked. The man called Eudorus thought for a moment.

"I imagine we'll have to take the soldier girl to Agamemnon," he said. "As far as the priestess…"

"Let's give her to Achilles!" a soldier suggested. A murmur of agreement passed through the assembled men.

"Very well," Eudorus assented. "You two, take the priestess to Achilles' tent. You three, help me with her."

Briseis screamed as we were dragged our separate ways, and I could hardly blame her; what was waiting for her when she got to whoever's tent they were taking her to, was not bound to be pleasant. I said nothing, but continued to thrash like a demon as they wrestled me out of the temple, across the sands, and towards the Greek camp. There were many more ships now, as well as many more soldiers all setting up tents or unloading supplies. One of the ships had been dragged even further up the shore than the others, and three tents had been pitched on top of it. My captors dragged me towards this one, while all the other Greeks we passed looked up curiously at my face. From what I could figure, it must have been more distinctly feminine than I had always thought, for I could hear a few whispered words of "A woman!" and "What's _she_ doing here?"

The soldiers towed me up a wooden ramp and onto the ship, which had been set up in the main room as a meeting place. A group of men stood off to the side, and looked over curiously as I was brought in still struggling. The soldiers forced me to kneel, and two of them held my arms.

"Eudorus," an unfamiliar voice called. One of the men who had already been in the tent had left his companions and was talking to the bearded Greek in low tones. I strained my ears to hear.

"Who's she?" the man asked.

"Found her in the temple," Eudorus told him. "She was dressed like a soldier, so we figured we should bring her here."

"Why is she dressed like a soldier?"

I snorted, and the men threw a curious glance at me.

"She didn't say," Eudorus continued. "I have to get back to Achilles; she's Agamemnon's headache now."

He left, and the other man came and stood before me. I held his gaze, for I was determined to keep my chin up. If I was to die, I had decided, I would die with pride as a soldier.

"What's your name?" the man asked. A brown beard, the same color of the curly hair on his head, mostly obscured his face. He was well built and could have been intimidating if he had wanted to be, but his eyes were kind.

Still, I didn't answer.

"You're dressed as a soldier," he pointed out, trying to get me to talk.

"I _am_ a soldier," I snapped, tired of them saying I was "dressed like" a soldier.

He smiled.

"I can see that."

"Don't patronize me, king of Greece!"

His smile faded a bit, but more from my words than my mannerisms.

"I understand your confusion," he said, "but I do not lead this army. That…_honor_ belongs to King Agamemnon of Mycenae."

He examined my face closely, and his next words were barely audible.

"Dear god; you can't be a day over nineteen."

"Eighteen," I corrected in a slightly more patient voice. Whoever this man was, he was not a threat.

"Odysseus!" a new man called out. "What have you discerned about our prisoner?"

The man who stood before me, whom I assumed was Odysseus, turned around.

"She's a soldier," he said with a shrug.

Agamemnon – for that was undoubtedly who this was – strolled forward and gazed down at me. His long hair was pulled into thick strands that fell over his richly clad shoulders. He was surprisingly large for a king with such an impressive army, but then I remembered that he probably did no actual fighting himself. His expression was smug as he looked at me.

_"She_ certainly is," he laughed. "What is your name, girl?"

"You don't care," I pointed out. "Why should I tell you?"

The king chuckled again.

"You've got quite an attitude," he said. "You should learn some manners, or it may get you into trouble."

"You're fat and stupid," I snapped, "but I don't see _that_ changing any time soon."

A few of the men standing away stifled laughs, but Agamemnon's face instantly lost its previous humor. He grabbed the front of my armor and dragged me to my feet, just inches from his face.

"Careful girl," he hissed, "or I may have to teach you some myself."

I spat between his eyes.

"Wretched little–!"

He struck me with the back of his hand, and I recoiled but refrained from crying out. I turned my head and stared him down as he wiped his face, trying to ignore the spots in my vision. Fat and stupid he may have been, but weak, he was not.

"You never told me your name," he said after regaining his composure.

"Get used to disappointment."

He hit me again, and this time it took me longer to recover. I held my chin high, however, and tried to act as though it hadn't made a difference.

"Last chance," he warned. I said nothing, but steeled myself for another blow. It came, of course, and as I fell over my head was swimming. The two soldiers who had been holding my arms this whole time had let go, obviously thinking that it was no longer necessary. I turned my head to see Agamemnon preparing for another strike, but a voice stopped him.

"That's enough!"

"I advise you, Odysseus, do not try to get in my way."

"Woman or not," he said, "she is a prisoner of war, and there are certain concessions that must be made."

Agamemnon lowered his hand and looked down at me. I had managed to prop myself up on my elbow and raise my head, but the effort made it pound even more. I tried my hardest to not show it, but I was positive at least Odysseus could tell.

"Very well," Agamemnon snapped. He examined me again, trying to determine my fate. I was fairly certain it would be along the same lines as Briseis, and though the thought was not comforting I knew I would be able to escape there better than if he had decided to have me executed right then and there.

"Who's the youngest man you know of in the army?" he asked. The other men thought for a moment and shrugged.

"Achilles has a cousin," someone suggested. "Nineteen, I think."

"He's probably never been with a woman before," Agamemnon mused. "Give the bitch to him."

The soldiers grabbed my arms again and lifted me to my feet. I tried my hardest to stay standing as they dragged me off the ship and down across the sand to a tent that stood a little ways off from the others, but my head was swimming so badly I could hardly see. The soldiers shoved me to the ground inside and bound my hands behind my back, but I hardly cared. The moment they left I let my head fall back against the sand, and slipped into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

When I awoke, I got the feeling some time had passed. The light coming in from between the leather straps that acted as a doorway to the tent had shifted its position from when I had passed out, and the noise level outside was a little quieter. My head was still pounding from being struck, and as I rolled over I remembered my bound hands. Just as I was trying to think of a way to untie them, I heard a fairly familiar voice outside the tent.

"Patroclus! Come here for a moment." It was Odysseus, the king from the ship. He was conversing in low tones with someone I didn't recognize.

"Did Eudorus tell you about the soldier girl they found in the temple?" Odysseus asked.

"Yes, he mentioned it," the newcomer, whom I assumed was Patroclus, told him.

"Agamemnon decided to…'give' her to you," the king told him. "She's in your tent now, though I'm not sure if she's conscious."

"Why are you telling me this?" Patroclus asked. Odysseus sighed.

"Because despite what Agamemnon might think," he said, "you are a good man, and I know you'll do the right thing."

The conversation ended, and I managed to sit up just as someone came into the tent. I assumed it was the Patroclus whom Odysseus had been talking to, and I was surprised at first that someone of his obvious youth would be involved in a war such as this. After entering he stood to his full height, which from what I could tell was about half a foot taller than me. He had straight, light brown hair that reached his chin with one piece braided back from his face, and his bright blue eyes appraised me as he stood.

"You must be the Trojan soldier girl," he said finally.

"I am."

He sighed and walked towards me as he spoke.

"Then you should know," he told me, "that I have no intentions of hurting you. Nor of…taking anything that isn't freely given."

He untied my hands as he said this, and after tossing the rope aside he reached over and grabbed a bowl with water in it while I rubbed my wrists.

"Your head looks bad," he said as he handed me a soaked rag. I dabbed it against the bump on my forehead and winced a bit at the pain. It wasn't bleeding, which was good, but I knew it would take a while for the swelling to go down.

"It could be worse," I assured him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"This." I held up the rag and my unbound hands. "Why are you trying so hard to be kind to me?"

He sighed and looked down.

"I am a soldier as well," he said. "To be taken as a prisoner of war, to me, would be less honorable than to be killed in battle. I have sympathy for you."

There was a slightly awkward silence as I considered this.

"Not to mention," he added, "you're the only person in this camp who's even close to my age. It would be nice to have a friend who's not in charge of me."

I couldn't help but smile.

"I'm Patroclus." He held a hand out to me in a gesture of alliance.

"Myla," I said, taking his hand.

"Are you hungry?" he asked after releasing my arm.

"A bit," I admitted.

We sat in the tent for a while, eating and talking. Patroclus apparently did not consider himself to be from a specific Greek kingdom, but he had sailed here with the Myrmidons. His cousin was their leader, and though he told me his name (Achilles) I couldn't remember if I'd seen him until he told me he was the one who cut the head off the statue of Apollo. From the way he spoke of him, I could tell he was very attached to his cousin, and idolized him as the prototype of a perfect warrior.

"So how _did_ you end up as a soldier?" he asked after a while. "In Greece women can't join the army; I assume it's probably the same here."

"Women are only forbidden from being soldiers if people know they're women," I said. "Once I'm in my armor, no one can really tell."

"It's only illegal if you get caught," he laughed in agreement. "But what about your family? Do they know what you did?"

My heart suddenly skipped a beat. I hadn't thought about my family in quite a while, but by now I assumed they must be worried sick. Hector, too, would want to make sure I was alright when he got back from the battle, and when he discovered I was no where to be found I wasn't sure what he would do.

My face must have betrayed my thoughts, for Patroclus gave me a half concerned and half interested look.

"I'll take that to mean they don't know," he concluded.

"No," I admitted. "They don't."

We were silent for a few moments.

"What about your family?" I asked. "Did they object to you going off to war?"

"Achilles _is_ my family," he said. "Well, and my aunt Thetis, but other than that I have no one."

"That king you were talking to a while ago seemed concerned with your well-being," I pointed out. "Odysseus, I think."

"He knew my parents," Patroclus said. "I myself didn't see him a lot, but it's never harmful to have a king interested in your welfare."

"No, I suppose not," I agreed. I was unsure if I should mention my own association with the royal family of Troy. It might speed my getting out of here if the Greeks knew my absence was being taken seriously, but on the other hand it might turn me into a ransom. I decided the more important facts I kept from them, the safer off I'd be.

The sun was beginning to set over the ocean; I could see the sky ablaze with color. I had always enjoyed watching the sun setting over the water, but I didn't feel like going outside the tent for concern of being "bothered" by other Greeks who had less dignity than my current companion.

"The sky is beautiful," Patroclus mentioned, almost reading my mind.

"It is," I agreed. Without meaning to, I remembered all the nights I had spent on the roof of our house, watching the sky turn from orange, to red, to purple, to black, and then coming back down to help Amanthe put Diones to bed and say goodnight to my uncle. The sounds of the night would drift through the window as I closed my eyes and fell asleep, and there was never a time that this happened when I wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

"You're worried about your family." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I admitted. "They're all I have left; I don't want them to suffer on account of me."

"They'll undoubtedly worry about you," he said. "They're your mother and father; it's what they do."

"They haven't worried about me in quite some time," I whispered.

Patroclus studied my face.

"You look tired," he said. "Would you like to go to sleep?"

"That would be best," I sighed.

He stood and moved to a pile of bed skins against the wall of the tent, removing half of the coverings.

"Let me get that," I insisted. He paused, and handed them to me. I moved to another side of the round tent to settled myself in, and when I turned around again Patroclus had removed his shirt. I couldn't help but stare; he was very well built.

"It's too hot here, even during the night," he said. I must have turned red, because he hastily added, "I can put it back on, if you'd feel more comfortable…"

"No, no, that's fine," I said quickly, turning around again. Despite the times Hector had attempted to get me interested in various young men, none of which ever worked, I did not have very much experience in dealing with the opposite sex.

I settled down on my makeshift bed and tried to go to sleep, but there was too much noise outside the tent and inside my head to calm down. The other soldiers were drinking to their victory, and from the sounds of things a few had done quite a bit of celebrating. Their drunken revelry was loud, and I tossed and turned in an attempt to shield my ears from it.

At one point, the curtain of leather was moved aside and someone stuck his head into the tent.

"Patroclus! Are you awake?" In the light from the outside fires I could see Eudorus, the man who dragged me out of the temple. He obviously recognized me as well; when I lifted my head to look at him, he did a double take and called to Patroclus again.

"I'm here Eudorus," my companion called, rising to greet the newcomer. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," the man quickly explained, "but the soldiers were gathering to celebrate the victory, and some of the other Myrmidons were wondering where you were."

He threw a quick, slightly suspicious glance in my direction.

"Of course, if you're busy…"

"No, no, I'm not."

Patroclus turned to me and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"They want me to go out," he said, "but, if you'd feel better if I stayed – just in case – I-I mean, in case someone were to – what I mean is –"

"Go, I'll be fine," I insisted.

Despite what I had said, I was even more awake after he left. The group directly outside had become louder, and was now attempting to sing some disgusting drinking song. I groaned and pulled the pillow over my face in an attempt to block out the sound. It didn't work, and in my tired stupor I began thinking over all the things I would like to say to their filthy faces if I were given the chance. I was dangerously close to following through with this plan when their conversation took another turn.

"D'you hear 'bout that Trojan girl the Myrmidons pulled out o' the temple?" one of them asked. Instantly, I was alert and listening.

"I did," another added. "Dressed like a soldier, she was!"

"What'd they do with 'er?"

"They gave 'er to that cousin of Achilles," someone told them. I didn't like the way their conversation was going, and instantly wished I had been left with a weapon of some sort. I frantically began looking around the tent for something I could use to defend myself with.

"_That_ boy?" someone snorted. "He's too young to know what to do with 'er."

The rope that had bound my hands earlier was still lying off to the side. It could make a sufficient whip, or if need be I could strangle someone with it.

"Where'd they put 'er?"

"In his tent, over there."

I was sure Patroclus had left his sword wherever his armor was, but despite my searching I couldn't find it.

"Well, there's no reason for her to…" they laughed drunkenly, and I could hear them rise from their places. "'Go to waste.'"

My eyes fell on the fire pit in the center of the tent. Though it hadn't held a flame in a while, some of the coals were still a bit hot. Just as the first drunken Greek stuck in head in, I picked one of them up and flung it at him as fast as I could. It hit him square between the eyes and he recoiled, crying out in pain. A second man entered and I hurled another coal, this one also striking its mark. The first man I had hit stumbled to his feet and lunged at me, but I sidestepped him and he fell to the ground with a hard thud.

A glinting of light in the corner caught my eye. Patroclus had left his armor off to the side, and thankfully his short sword was with it. I lunged for the corner and managed to extract the weapon from its sheath just as another man made a grab at me. I turned and thrust the blade beneath his chin, and he stopped in his tracks.

"Get out," I growled, "or I swear to the gods I will turn you into a stuck pig."

The man looked from the sword, to my face, and back again. Slowly, he backed away, only to trip over his friend who was still lying on the ground. Both men stumbled to their feet and retreated, while the two or three others behind them stared at me in shock. Once they left the interior of the tent, they turned and hurried away as fast as they could.

I smirked contentedly and put the sword back as another voice reached my ears from outside. Patroclus had apparently noticed what was going on, and was making his way back. The men who had left were talking to him.

"Kill that bitch!" one of them yelled. "She's crazy!"

"I don't know how the Trojans raise their women," another added, "but it must do something to their heads."

Patroclus entered the tent and gave me a strange look.

"A-are you alright?" he asked, not sure what to make of the situation.

"Yes, I suppose so," I told him. He shuffled his feet again – a thing, I had started to notice, that he did whenever he was uncomfortable.

"What happened?" he questioned. "Some men were telling me that I should kill you."

"So I heard."

He sat down next to me and ran a hand through his hair.

"They also said you were out of your mind," he told me. "I'm not questioning your sanity, I was just curious as to what happened that would make them think – you're bleeding."

"What?" I followed his gaze to my left hand, and for the first time I noticed that it was red and wet. "Would you look at that."

"Here."

He handed me the wet rag from earlier, and I dabbed at my palm with it.

"Those coals probably just weren't as cool as I thought," I assumed. "See, it's fine."

"Coals?" he asked. "What coals?"

"The ones from the fire." I pointed to the pit and the stones inside. "I threw them at a few of those men that called me crazy."

"That would explain it," he shrugged.

We sat in silence for a few moments.

"How's your hand?" he asked.

I looked to my palm. It was raw, but not badly hurt.

"It's fair enough," I told him. Just then, a thought occurred to me.

"Why do you ask?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm still technically your prisoner," I pointed out. "Even if you're not going to hurt me, that doesn't mean…"

Patroclus looked down and sighed.

"That's what friends do for each other," he said. "I was coming to help, but obviously that was superfluous."

I was quiet for a moment while thinking this over.

"So we're friends then?"

I held my hand out, similarly to what he had done when we first met earlier that day. He paused for a moment, and then took it.

"Friends," he agreed.

After that, I slept much easier.

The next morning, I awoke to find Patroclus in his armor. The rest of the camp, from what I could hear, was up and moving, evidentially preparing for battle. I became a little saddened when I remembered I would not be able to do the same.

I sat up, and Patroclus turned around.

"You're awake," he said. "I have to go fight today."

"I know," I nodded. He shuffled his feet and handed me something wrapped in cloth.

"Just in case you need it," he said quietly. I removed the fabric and found a dagger.

"Thank you."

He left, and I sat on my bed and sighed. If the army was departing, I thought, perhaps it would give me an opportunity to escape. Patroclus was kind, and from what I could tell thus far a good friend, but no matter what precautions he took I knew I was not safe here. Not only that, but I was anxious to get back to my family and let them know I was unhurt.

A voice outside called for all the soldiers to start forming ranks. There was a lot more noise now as men gathered their weapons and headed towards their lines, calling to friends and comrades. Eventually the noise lessened, and I was left to plan how best to get away.

An escape, however, was apparently not in the plan for that day. Just as I was about to rise and check on exactly how many men were left, Patroclus stalked back into the tent and threw his spear onto the ground.

"I thought you were marching," I said curiously.

"The army is marching," he told me with unintended acidity. "Apparently, the Myrmidons are not."

"Why?" I questioned. He sighed as he removed his leg plates.

"My cousin is throwing a fit," he said honestly.

"He throws _fits?"_ I asked, half out of shock and half out of humor.

"Sadly, yes." He sighed. "Once he's in a mood there's usually no getting him out, so we could be here for a while."

I didn't know whether to be angry or pleased at this news. If the Myrmidons were indeed staying at the camp for the rest of the day or longer, it would make my plans to get out all the more difficult. On the other hand, it would be nice to spend some time with my friend.

Patroclus had redressed himself in normal clothes, and sat down heavily.

"Well, I'm officially bored," he sighed. "And it's not even noon yet."

His words gave me an idea. I stood and motioned to the outside.

"Boredom," I told him, "is just a word used by those who aren't creative enough to see exactly how many things there are to do."

"What are you implying?"

"That you've spent too much time learning to fight and not enough being creative," I said. "Since you're not fighting, now would be an excellent time to remedy that."

He laughed.

"Come on," I insisted. "At the very least, we can – oh, I don't know – steal something off Agamemnon's ship."

"Under one condition," he said.

"What?"

"If we get caught - " he stood up, " – I get to blame you."

"Very well," I laughed as we headed out.

My overall plan, of course, was not to teach Patroclus to come up with different ways to alleviate his boredom, but to have a decent look at the camp. If I knew where exactly the most people were, and where my best escape route was, I would be all the more prepared when the time came to make my flight. However, since obviously no one could know of this, my first excuse was as good as any.

Some of the other Myrmidons had removed their armor and were beginning to mull about, evidently also wondering how best to spend the day. A few of them eyed me, but their glances were mostly curious. I heard some murmurings of what had transpired last night and I did my best to ignore it as my friend and I looked around for something to do.

One of the men approached me, and out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw Patroclus stiffen.

"Would you have killed those men?"

I assumed they meant the ones from last night, so I answered honestly.

"Yes," I said, "I suppose so."

"Why do you want to know, Appius?" Patroclus asked.

"Do you think you could have fought them?" Appius asked. I shrugged.

"Yes."

He held out a wooden practice sword.

"Let's see you prove it."

I looked to the fake weapon, to my friend's stunned face, and back again. For a moment I questioned if the challenge was worth it, but after apprising the man who had made it I decided that particular description of the event was unnecessary.

"Very well."

The rest of the Myrmidons had by now noticed what was transpiring, and they wandered over in increasingly large groups to watch me fight Appius. Patroclus stood behind me with a bit of a concerned face.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he murmured. "Appius is a good fighter."

"So am I."

Before he could make another objection, we started. The match-up may have looked unequal at first glance, but the advantage was essentially the same on both sides. Appius may have been larger and more heavily muscled than me, but what I lacked in physical strength I made up for in swiftness. Not to mention, what I had said to Patroclus was true; I was at the very least a decent fighter.

At the beginning neither of us moved all that much. We circled each other slowly, all the while waiting for the other to make the first attack. Finally Appius made a stab at my shoulder, which I blocked with ease. I feigned an attack on his left arm and instead went for his exposed right side. It almost worked, but he caught me at the last moment and dodged my wooden blade.

The fight finally underway, the crowd that had gathered began to respond to each move we made. Most favored Appius, but a few joined Patroclus in support of me. Once, when I ducked out of the way of an attack, I saw Achilles standing off to the side watching us.

My strategy of blocking and evading was beginning to work. Appius might have been strong, but he was more apt to tiring out soon. Finally, once he had to pause and catch his breath, I unleashed a relentless barrage of attacks that he was unable to block or move away from. I knocked his sword from his hand, grabbed it before it fell to the ground, and placed it and mine criss-crossed on his shoulders, trapping his now vulnerable throat.

There was a moment of stunned silence from the onlookers, and finally an eruption of applause. I handed the wooden sword to its owner and walked back to Patroclus, who smiled broadly. Most everyone, I was pleasantly surprised to find, was impressed by my performance.

Appius, however, was simply miffed.

"Oh, be quiet!" he shouted at some other Myrmidons who were laughing at him. "You would've done the same!"

"Now, that's enough for one day," Eudorus said from next to Patroclus.

"_You_ fight her then," someone suggested. There was a buzz of agreement from the group, and Eudorus looked to me. I gave my classic shrug of nonchalance.

"Very well," he said.

The details of the battle were similar to my previous fight, except that it lasted longer. Eudorus was a more skilled fighter than Appius so it took longer to exhaust him, but eventually my tactic worked. As it turned out, he was also a much more graceful loser.

"I'm impressed," he told me as I removed my sword from his neck.

"Frankly," I murmured to him, "so am I."

The Myrmadons, by now, seemed thoroughly determined to find someone left in the camp that I could not defeat.

"Patroclus!"

My friend gave a few shouts of protest.

"You're about her same size," someone pointed out. "You give it a try."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but relented.

"Very well."

He took the wooden sword and moved to the ring created by everyone gathering around to watch. I estimated that he would make the first move, and apparently so did everyone else, for when he stood completely still the expectant silence that had descended was broken by scattered laugher.

"You learn quickly," I commented.

"So I've been told."

We started to circle each other, but neither of us made a move to strike. The tension in the air was thick.

"If that was the only way you can beat someone," he laughed, "you're going to be in trouble."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I know plenty more ways to beat you."

The observers held their breath.

"And what would that be?"

I lashed out at him so suddenly, he jumped. It was just the movement I needed to catch him off balance and knock him to the ground.

"Distraction," I laughed.

The fight would have ended there, but he managed to jump to his feet and back away before I could finish it. The pressure of the group around us had finally boiled over to a dull roar, and I could even hear people making bets on who would win. We passed several terse minutes circling each other, interspersed with bursts of fighting.

Ultimately, my energy became too much for the little combat that was occurring. I lunged at Patroclus, who sidestepped me and landed a blow to my arm. I retaliated with a strike aimed at his lower back; he used the opportunity to catch me in the side, and so on and so forth. Eventually, through some bizarre exchange of strikes that happened too fast for me to keep track of, we ended up with our swords at each other's throats. A stunned murmur passed through the onlookers.

"I say we call this a draw," I suggested.

"Fair enough."

The crowd began to disband, obviously sensing that I was through fighting. They all eventually left except for Achilles, who approached Patroclus and me.

"If you would get over that nasty habit you have of hesitating," he said to my friend, "you might have beaten her."

Patroclus blushed and did his archetypal foot-shuffle.

"If it's any consolation," I said to him, "I doubt it."

Achilles turned to me, and for the first time he gave a half-smile.

"You're quite good," he said. I couldn't help but beam. "Who taught you to fight?"

"My father," I said. This wasn't entirely true; Hector had taught me a bit, but since I wasn't mentioning that…

"I'm sure he's very proud of you."

This remark caught me off-guard. Truth be told, it was something I thought about occasionally: what my parents would think of my current lifestyle, years after they had last seen me. I was suddenly and unexpectedly overcome with grief.

"I suppose he is," I muttered, still trying to sound appreciative of the praise. Achilles nodded, and walked back to his tent.

The good mood I had been in before my brief conversation had vanished. I tried my hardest to not spoil things for Patroclus – who, despite his cousin's words, was immensely proud of being the only person not to have been beaten by me – but despondency loomed over my thoughts like storm clouds. Even nine and ten years after their deaths, the mention of my parents still managed to fill me with sorrow.

A while later I managed to find myself alone on the shore, watching the waves beat relentlessly against the sand. The sun in the sky was past the noontime mark, and the army would be returning soon. Patroclus had earlier confided in me that he didn't think the Myrmidons' chances for going to war tomorrow were very good, due to his cousin's stubbornly sour temper.

As I stood letting the water wash over my feet, I heard Patroclus call to me from a ways off.

"Myla!" I heard him trot over to stand next to me. "Are you hungry? We were about to…Are you alright?"

My face must have betrayed my thoughts (which, of course, were lingering on my parents) more than I had thought.

"I'm fine," I tried to say, but my voice cracked. I turned my head and coughed a few times, then repeated myself.

"I'm fine, really." I took a deep breath. "I just need a moment."

"Do you want me to go?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I don't own the beach," I tried to say calmly. "You can stand here if you like."

He remained in place and followed my gaze out to the sea. Neither of us said anything for a while, but my mind was whirling.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked finally. "What's bothering you, I mean."

I sighed.

"There's really not much to say," I told him.

"Does it have to do with your parents?" I looked at him. "You've been acting like this since Achilles mentioned your father teaching you to fight."

I turned my gaze back to the ocean and remained silent.

"Did you have a fight with them before you left?" Patroclus guessed again. "Something you'd regret if you never saw them again?"

I involuntarily snorted.

"The last fight I had with both my parents," I told him, "was over me kicking a boy who was being mean to me, and it happened when I was eight. The last fight I had with my father was over…god; I don't even remember anymore…something stupid. It happened a year after the other fight, and he died the next week."

"What did your mother do?" my friend asked. I sighed and whispered, "She waited for him at the Styx."

Another few moments of somber quiet passed between us. Eventually, Patroclus spoke.

"My parents," he said softly, "died a year ago. Before it happened, we had the biggest fight I could remember, about whether or not I should be allowed to train as a soldier. They didn't want me to, and now, here I am. Since then, one thing I've learned is that lamenting won't bring them back."

"I know," I sighed. "The lamenting just makes it bearable."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: First thing's first – I just realized I never put a disclaimer on this. So, as usual, I own nothing that was in the movie, nor do I own "The Iliad."

Also, this is the first chapter that references something written by Homer, so I will explain. Despite what the movie might have led you to believe, the Trojan War lasted much longer than a week. In Homer's "Iliad" it goes on for ten years (hence why, in "The Odyssey," Odysseus is gone for twenty years). In this story it won't last quite that long, but it'll definitely be more prolonged than a week. Expect it to total somewhere around three to four months.

And just so you know, I'm not a gymnast. Cut me some slack on descriptions of things I've only seen and not done (you'll see later in the chapter).

Okay, back to what the Myrmidons are doing when they're stuck sitting around and not fighting…

*****

I had been at the Greek camp for about two weeks now. Each day the army went out to fight, and each day the Myrmidons were ordered to stay behind. Some of them were getting awfully mad about the ordeal, but to my great surprise Patroclus handled the whole thing better than expected. We divided our time between talking, wandering, and sparring (he was starting to get over his hesitating tendency).

Let it not be assumed, however, that I had forgotten my family back in Troy. Each day I watched for a potential way out, but each day some unforeseen circumstance prevented my departure. I was starting to get anxious about the whole business, though; not only was I unsure about whether or not my escape would work, but I was starting to become concerned about the effect of it on my friend. Patroclus had apparently been rather alone among the army before I arrived, and I knew that, no matter how happy I would be to see my family again, a part of me would feel guilty for abandoning him. Even so, the thought never stopped me from enjoying the time we did spend together.

One morning I awoke to find that I had kicked off my blanket while asleep. Despite this fact, I was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and from the feeling of the air it wasn't bound to get any better as the day went on. Patroclus, who was usually already up by the time I awoke, had not even bothered to don a shirt.

"Is it usually this ridiculously hot?" he asked when he noticed I was awake.

"Welcome to summer in Troy," I shrugged.

For once, the rest of the Myrmidons weren't as angry about not being able to fight, and I could only assume it was due to the thought of having to wear armor in the intense heat. Most of them, like my friend, were only half-dressed, and as Patroclus and I left the shade of the tent to wonder if it was worth trying to entertain ourselves elsewhere, I was suddenly and awkwardly aware of being the only woman in the camp.

Nevertheless, I got an idea as we stood on the hot sand and watched the waves beat against the shore.

"Over here," I said. "I know what we can do."

I grabbed my friend's arm and towed him towards the beach. Once we were on wet sand, I hastily untied my sandals and plunged headlong into the water.

I expected Patroclus to follow after me, but when I surfaced he was still on land, shuffling his feet.

"Aren't you coming?" I called over the sounds of the surf.

"No, that's alright," he said hesitantly. "I'll stay here."

"Don't be ridiculous," I told him. "It's too hot."

"I'll be fine," he insisted.

"Come on, you'll feel better."

He exhaled noisily and shook his head, but stooped over to undo his sandals. As I waded closer to the beach, I could hear him muttering.

"This is stupid," he repeated, almost like a mantra. "This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid…"

He gave an involuntary yelp as he stepped into the water.

"This is cold!"

"It's the ocean," I reminded him. Still, he at first waded in no further than his knees.

I was getting impatient with his hesitancy and energized by the cool sea, so I swam over and splashed an armful of water into his face. He retaliated with a similar gesture, and slowly but surely walked in deeper. I had taken to swimming circles around him to try to motivate him to do the like, and even though it hadn't worked thus far, I continued to dart around him. Eventually I abandoned my previous sport of splashing my friend altogether and struck out over the water, just enjoying the feeling of it across my skin and through my hair.

After a few minutes of this I surfaced long enough to have a look around. I thought I had come back to the place where Patroclus was standing, but I didn't see him. Perhaps I was too far up the beach? I scanned the water for him; if he had been swimming, he would have to come up for air soon.

"Patroclus?" I called.

A flash of a hand beneath the surface alerted me that something was wrong. My friend, it seemed, had wandered out too far in the water and gotten caught in a current. Without thinking, I plunged back into the waves and swam to his struggling figure as fast as I could. As I pulled him closer to the shore, in the back of my mind I wondered how he could have gotten stuck underneath water that was only a foot or two above his head.

We reached the beach, and Patroclus spent a few minutes coughing and gasping before I could talk to him.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I almost _drowned,_ that's what happened!"

"But how?" I was still confused. "That wasn't very deep water, and the current isn't that strong. You should have been able to swim out of it."

He didn't look at me.

"You _can_ swim, can't you?"

Suddenly, everything made sense.

"_You can't swim?"_

"I don't like deep water!" he finally shouted in his defense.

"That wasn't deep!"

"It was to me!" he cried. "If I can't touch the bottom, I usually don't go in."

I sighed and shook my head. Next to me, Patroclus sat up and ran a hand through his wet hair. If we were standing, I was positive that he would have been shuffling his feet.

"Well," I said resolutely, "let's see if we can fix this."

I stood up again and headed back into the water while my friend stared at me.

"Oh, no," he said flatly when he realized what I was planning. "I'm not going anywhere near that thing."

"You're going to have to learn to swim eventually," I pointed out. "What's the difference between now or fifty years from now?"

He sighed, but rose and sullenly joined me in the water. Though it only went to his waist, he still had the expression of a condemned man being led to the executioner.

"This is shallow, even by your standards," I said. "If anything happens, just put your feet down. I'll be standing right here, so if anything _does_ happen, you're not on your own."

"Mmpf," he grunted in what I assumed was meant to say he had consented.

"All right, first thing's first: you need to learn to float on your back." He didn't seem any happier about this concept. "The trick is to keep your stomach above the water; if you can do that, the rest of you will float. Now then, try leaning back."

He eyed the water suspiciously.

"I'm not going to move," I reminded him. I got another idea. "Here."

I put one hand on the small of his back and the other behind his head.

"I'll be holding you up until you can do it yourself," I told him.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," he objected. "Things could still go wrong, and – "

"Patroclus, look at me." He somewhat reluctantly turned his head, and I spoke deliberately. "Everything's going to be fine. I will not let you drown. I promise. Now please at least try."

Slowly, he leaned back into the water. I kept my hands in place and spoke calmly.

"Now pick up your feet and straighten your legs, but keep your stomach high."

He dipped a little at first, but under my supervision, managed to float just above the surface of the water.

"See? You're doing fine."

He didn't dare speak and his eyes were clenched shut, but I could tell he was at least somewhat pleased with himself. I allowed him the assistance of my hands for a few minutes, and then slowly moved them away. His face crinkled temporarily, but relaxed after he realized he was holding his own. His eyes slowly opened, and he smiled.

"That's not so bad, now is it?" I grinned.

We spent a few more hours in the water, and by the time we had to leave he was much more comfortable with the sea than he had been that morning. We had already made plans to go back the next day (which was bound to be just as unpleasantly hot), and even though the walk back to the camp wasn't very long, our feet and legs were caked with wet sand by the time we returned. For no apparent reason, we were laughing uncontrollably.

"Look at my fingers!" I held up my hand so he could see the wrinkled skin. He glanced at them and chuckled.

"You think _that's_ bad?" he laughed. "Look at mine!"

I held up my hand and rested it against his. His fingers were slightly longer than mine, but our hands were about the same size.

I noticed we'd stopped laughing. Patroclus looked at our hands and gave a half-smile. I caught his eye and returned the gaze, but after that I couldn't look away. Neither could he, it seemed.

"Patroclus!" Eudorus' voice suddenly startled us. He approached and was about to go on talking, but paused.

"Where have you two – am I interrupting something?"

The moment was over. I turned away and blushed slightly, and my friend shuffled his feet. Eudorus must have felt the answer to his question more than heard it.

"I'm going to…walk away now," he said uncomfortably, and hurried back up the way he'd came.

We didn't speak of the incident for the rest of the day, but I noticed we both made a concerted effort to avoid any type of physical contact. Later that evening, after I had decided to retire early, I lay awake thinking over the events of the day. The swimming lesson had gone well, but thoughts of it immediately led my mind to our awkward moment a while ago.

What confused me the most was why exactly it had been awkward. The act in of itself was harmless enough: I rested my hand against his, and we looked at each other. The uneasiness, I knew, lay in the nature of it. The way that he looked at me and I looked at him, coupled with how, in the back of my mind, I wished for an excuse to not have to remove my hand, came to an explosive head in reality once we were interrupted.

What also confused me (and possibly made me nervous) was that I was unsure whether or not I wanted it to happen again.

Patroclus entered, and I immediately rolled over and pretended to sleep. I wasn't sure if he believed the ruse, but he still tried to be as quiet as possible while going to bed. I listened to the sounds of his breathing in the dark, but it never leveled out into the even rhythm of slumber, and after a while, he spoke.

"Myla?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Are you awake?"

I rolled over.

"Yes. Why?"

"I was just wondering."

I heard him turn over, and we collapsed into silence for a few more moments. The voices outside were at a reasonable level, but they still swirled into the tangled mass of my thoughts and left me feeling confused when I tried to think about anything. I wondered if my friend was having the same problem.

A shadow appeared in the door.

"Patroclus? Myla?" The voice belonged to Eudorus. "Are you awake?"

I sat up, and heard Patroclus do the same.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Why does something have to be wrong? A few of us –" when he said "us," I assumed he referred to the Myrmidons, "– were wanting you to come sit at the fire."

I looked back at Patroclus, who gave a shrug and reached for his shirt. I was still unsure as to whether the invitation extended to me, so I stayed in place. Eudorus looked at me.

"They meant you too," he said.

"Really?" I was more than a little puzzled as to why, but decided not to ask. One has to take friends whenever they come during a war.

We left the tent and walked across the sand to a campfire. The other men around it moved over to make room for us to sit down, and greeted us in a relaxed manner.

"Have something to drink," someone offered. I was given a cup with wine, and I sipped on it while listening to everyone talk.

All things told, it was a very pleasant way to pass the time. I let the other men around the circle do most of the talking, but occasionally I joined the conversation. As the time wore on and they began to exhaust their list of possible topics for each other, attention started to turn to me.

"So…Myla, is that right?" I nodded. "You've been here for two weeks, but it seems Patroclus is the only one who knows anything about you."

I shrugged.

"What do you want to know?"

They conferred for a moment, and then turned back to me.

"How did you learn to fight?"

Next to me, I could see Patroclus stiffen. There was no way out of answering, but I sincerely hoped they wouldn't try to pry.

"My father." I almost held my breath as I waited for the next question.

"How did you end up in a war?" I immediately relaxed.

"I put on armor and went out to fight, just like all the other soldiers."

They passed the next several minutes questioning me in this manner. I was glad that no more of their inquiries were about my family, but a few of them were rather personal (things such as "Are you married?", and everything that it implies). I started to think that they were getting done, but it seemed that I had just one more thing to do.

"So you're a good fighter," someone (I think it was Appius) said. "Is there anything else you can do?"

I thought for a moment. One thing came to mind, but I didn't really want to show them.

"Not that I can think of," I lied.

"I don't believe that."

"No, honestly," I insisted. "There's really nothing else."

"There must be _something."_

"No, there's not."

"There's got to be!"

I sighed.

"Well, there is this _one_ thing…"

There was an immediate cry from the group for me to demonstrate. Under normal circumstances I probably would have refused, but I was on my third cup of wine and feeling a little more gutsy than usual, so I decided to give it a go. I stood up, moved to a clear section of sand, and backed up a few yards. Everyone around the fire was gathering together and craning their necks to see what I was going to do.

I took a deep breath and started running forward. When I was right in front of the Myrmidons, I jumped forward, planted my hands on the ground, and vaulted my feet over my head. I did this in quick succession about three times before landing flat on my feet in the sand.

The group behind me started to cheer. I smiled broadly as I came back to sit down, even though I could feel the blood rushing to my face.

"That was incredible!" Patroclus said. "How did you learn to do that?"

"I guess I just sort of taught myself," I confessed. I laughed and added, "It took lots of time and lots of bruises, but still…"

After my performance, conversation in the group picked up drastically. I was not called upon to speak, which was good because I had started to feel sleepy from the drinking. I finished my wine and declined the offer of more, and pretty soon I was starting to nod off. I'm not sure when exactly I fell asleep, but I was suddenly aware of moving even though my feet never touched the sand. Whoever was holding me entered the tent and laid me gently on my bed, taking care to not wake me. The blanket was pulled over me, and a soft hand stroked my hair.

"Goodnight Myla," Patroclus whispered in the dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Patroclus finally learned to swim. It took a little bit longer than I would have thought, but since we were trying not to touch each other even by accident things were kind of hindered.

Even so, we still spent most of our waking hours together, and we laughed and joked just as much as ever. Occasionally, however, we would pass a group of people who would murmur to each other and watch us go by. I didn't particularly care what they were saying, but the fact that I knew there were most likely rumors floating around the camp about myself and my friend was, to say the very least, uncomfortable. Thankfully, the bond that had grown between us was strong enough to resist such things.

But outside the camp and the world we had created for ourselves, the war raged on.

Every day when the Greek army returned to camp, the soldiers looked even more weary and ragged than the day before. I overheard a conversation between Eudorus and Odysseus once where the king said that there was no clear winner; the battles were always fought to a draw. Every day the death toll rose higher and higher, and every day people questioned why they were even fighting.

However, things had started to look up for the Myrmidons. Apparently Achilles had won, if a bit inadvertently, whatever private battle he and Agamemnon were stuck in. Many of the men were saying that meant they were most likely going to fight soon. I myself had no idea what they were even fighting over (I don't think anyone did), but the thought of Patroclus going to war suddenly and unexpectedly filled me with dread. I knew it was something he was prepared to do, but I was unsure how I would handle things if my friend died.

One day we were coming back up the beach from swimming, and we passed by Achilles' tent. I didn't give the matter much thought until I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Myla!"

I turned to see Briseis standing in the doorway of the tent. Instantly I ran to my friend and embraced her.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"On Agamemnon's ship," she said.

My mind flashed back to the day a few weeks ago when we were last separated.

"But I thought they were taking you to Achilles?"

"They did," she said. "It's all very complicated, but in short that's why Achilles and his soldiers haven't been fighting."

Suddenly, things made sense.

"Are you hurt?" I asked.

"Actually, no." She smiled at me. "I'm honestly just as surprised as you, but I can't say I'm complaining."

She glanced over my shoulder.

"What happened to you? I was afraid you were going to be executed!"

I abruptly remembered who was behind me. I turned.

"Actually, I was 'given' to him." I motioned to my other friend. "Briseis, this is Patroclus."

They greeted each other, if a bit hesitantly.

"Patroclus," Briseis mused. "You're Achilles' cousin, aren't you?"

Patroclus shuffled his feet.

"I suppose I am," he said. I laughed a little; the poor boy really wasn't good at meeting new people.

I spent most of the day with Briseis, and I don't think I've ever giggled so much in my life (come to think of it, I don't think I'd ever giggled before up to that point). We wandered the camp and talked not only about what we'd been doing for the weeks in between when we last saw each other, but anything else that came to mind. She explained her rather complex relationship to Achilles, and I told her of my friendship with his cousin.

We were sitting on the shore when our conversation took a more serious turn.

"So, you don't know how anyone back in Troy is doing either?" she asked me.

"No," I confessed. Lowering my voice, I added, "I've been trying to look for a way to escape, but that hasn't been going so well."

"I thought you would. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't figured one out already." She smiled a bit slyly. "I think I know why."

"And what would that be?"

"Your friend."

"Who, Patroclus? Why on earth would he make a difference?"

"Don't act so naïve Myla," she laughed. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. Honestly, I think it's cute."

"So now that you're involved with someone, you get to go around telling _me_ what I should be doing?"

"I didn't tell you to do anything," she pointed out. "What you do is your business; I just think you should do _something."_

"Like what?"

She paused for a moment.

"To be honest, I don't know," she said. "He's your friend, so I'm sure you can talk freely."

"Not about that," I muttered.

"Why not?" she asked. In a softer voice, I explained what had happened the day of the first swimming lesson. It was a mark of my longtime friendship with Briseis that she did not laugh.

"I don't honestly know why it was such a problem," I concluded. "But it was, and now…"

I sighed, and Briseis laid a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"It was awkward because you were both forced to confront your feelings," she said kindly. "If you weren't interrupted, who knows where your relationship might be now?"

"I shouldn't _have_ any feelings, though," I sighed. "I mean, he's still technically one of the Greeks, which makes him an enemy to Troy. We shouldn't even be friends, much less anything else."

"War certainly does complicate things," Briseis agreed. "If you were to get involved, his country and ours would view it as an act of betrayal."

"So what does that make your relationship with Achilles?" I asked. "The things you might do would be constituted as the same thing."

"So would the things I've already done," she murmured, looking away. I turned and gave her a surprised look.

"What exactly is that?"

She glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, then leaned over and whispered something in my ear that must have made me turn red.

"Can a priestess _do_ that?" I questioned.

"Of course not," she said. "Which is what makes it all the worse."

She laughed a little at my face.

"It's not as bad as you would think," she told me.

"I thought we just established how much of a problem it was," I reminded her.

"Well, a problem, yes," she agreed. "Bad, no."

I wasn't sure if I was going to like the turn our conversation had taken. Briseis seemed to sense it, and she chuckled again.

"Myla, you're bright red!"

I tried to hide my vivid cheeks by turning my head, but my friend wouldn't buy it. She laughed and patted me on the back.

"Some day," she said, "you may not mind as much."

That thought haunted me the rest of the day. I couldn't look Patroclus in the face without Briseis' comment coming back in full force. I didn't want to think of him in such a way; obviously, it made me unintentionally embarrassed, but it was also confusing my friend. Every time the blood rushed to my face and I averted my eyes, he seemed to get more and more upset. I wanted to tell him that he hadn't done anything, but doing so would require revealing the contents of my conversation with Briseis.

"Alright, what's the matter?" he finally asked later that day, after I had avoided eye contact for the seventh time during our conversation.

"Nothing," I insisted. "I just…erm…my eye itched."

I gave myself a mental slap for such a stupid response while pretending to rub my eye.

"I don't believe you," he said. "You've been getting progressively more skittish all day."

"Nothing's wrong. Really, you haven't done anything."

Patroclus sighed and shook his head. We dropped the discussion, but he seemed a little more edgy as the day went on, and I felt guilty. I was also somewhat annoyed by the fact that he seemed to be holding a grudge for the events of earlier, although I did my best to ignore it.

That evening we were invited again to sit with the Myrmidons at the fire after dark, and I didn't say a word. My friend also didn't speak, and the profound silence between us was intensified by the absence of Achilles and Briseis (a fact that I did my best to ignore) and the constant glances we received from various people around the fire. I tried to act as though they didn't bother me, but I was sure it wasn't working very well. Eventually the stress was too great, and I had to get away. When I was sure no one was watching, I slipped from the circle around the fire and hurried to the beach. Away from the sounds of the gathering I was able to watch the endless inundation of the waves on the sand and attempt to gather my scattered thoughts.

A set of footsteps approached from behind me. I assumed it would be Patroclus following to find out what was wrong; when Odysseus sat down beside me, I was a bit confused.

"It's a beautiful night," he said after a while.

"It is," I agreed. It may have been a bit rude, but I couldn't help but ask, "Did you come to discuss the weather or is there something else on your mind?"

The king sighed and rubbed his chin.

"Not me, actually," he confessed. "Patroclus."

I couldn't say I was surprised.

"He's worried about you."

"He seemed more angry than worried the last time I saw him," I blurted out before I could stop myself. Odysseus was trying to help, but I didn't feel like discussing my problem with him.

The king paused for a moment.

"That's only because he was unsure how to voice his concern in a way that you would listen to," he told me. "He's a very loyal friend."

"I'm not doubting his loyalty," I said. "I'm not doubting _anything_ about him actually; things are just…complicated."

There were a few more moments of silence.

"Are they complicated by nature or because you're making them that way?"

"What do you mean?"

"Patroclus may be concerned," Odysseus explained, "but he's also avoiding something. Now I don't know what exactly is going on between you, but some things are easier solved by simply owning up to them."

I sighed.

"I wish I could believe that."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry if the last chapter sort of sucked, but I was trying to put some time in between when Myla and Patroclus first meet and the inevitable issues of the story. I know she spends a little too much time sitting on the beach talking to people, but to be honest the setting is sort of limited, and there's only so much you can have the characters doing. The action picks up here though. Thanks for your patience!

*****

I had begun to curse the mornings. The coming of a new day meant more time when I had to carefully watch my actions around Patroclus, and despite my greatest efforts the awkwardness that existed between us got worse and worse. I knew that he felt the same way, but to acknowledge its existence would make things all the more uncomfortable.

Despite all this, there was a conflict going on in my own mind involving the break of day. Even though I knew what was eventually going to happen during waking hours, I looked anxiously forward to the arrival of daylight, because no matter what else, it meant that I could see Patroclus again. Every time I admitted this, even just to myself, I immediately tried to nullify it in my mind, but it never worked. Each new day that brought new problems also brought with it a deeper feeling for my friend. I wondered sometimes if he felt the same way, but I knew I would never ask.

Even though Achilles had won his fight with Agamemnon, the Myrmidons remained at camp. A few of them were getting so agitated there was private talk of simply going to war without their leader, though I and everyone else knew they would never actually do so. All the same, the general atmosphere of my days was one of acute tension.

One morning, I awoke to find myself alone in the tent. I figured I must have overslept because the usual sounds of the army preparing to leave did not drift inside, but all the same Patroclus was usually still there when I first rose. His absence, for some unbeknownst reason, gave me an ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I was about to go out to look for him when I heard his voice outside.

"Eudorus! Can I talk to you for a moment?"

I knew it was rude of me, but I sat up and scooted closer to the wall to hear.

"What's wrong?" the general asked. I noticed a small slit in the fabric of the tent; they were sitting directly in front of me on the other side.

Patroclus sighed.

"How do you know if you're going crazy?" he asked in complete sincerity.

"Why do you want to know?" Eudorus questioned. Though is back was to me, in my mind I could see his raised eyebrows and curious expression.

"I'm being serious," my friend insisted. "How would you know?"

"Well, if you're worried," Eudorus told him, "don't be. You're fine."

"How do you know?" He seemed unconvinced.

"Most people who lose their minds don't know that it's happened, or they deny it," the man explained. "Since you're worrying about it, I think it's safe to assume you're still sane."

"I don't _feel_ sane," my friend muttered. There was silence.

"If it's worth anything," Eudorus said in a quieter voice, "I think I know what _is_ wrong."

"What?"

"Your friend."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Myla?" Patroclus asked. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's wrong with her," Eudorus explained. "She's a good girl; intelligent, companionable, kind…"

"What's this got to do with anything?"

"I know you're not naïve," the man said, "and no matter how much you try not to acknowledge it I know you that you know what I'm referring to, so I'll let that comment pass. My point is that she has many excellent attributes, and most other men would be thrilled to be around her as much as you are."

"I still don't see how this applies to the question of my sanity," my friend interrupted.

"Yes you do," Eudorus said flatly. "You're just afraid to admit it."

I could barely breathe. It was as though he was talking to both of us. I threw myself back onto the bed and covered my head with the pillow. For some reason, I couldn't bear to hear any more of their conversation; it was all too real to me.

I heard Patroclus come back in the door, and I feigned sleep again. After what I had just heard, I didn't think I could face him. He rummaged through his things for a few moments until he found what he was looking for, and then turned and moved towards the door. I thought he would leave, but he paused and walked back. Though my eyes were shut and I couldn't see a thing, I knew when he knelt down next to me. He laid a hand on my shoulder and gently shook me.

"Myla, wake up," he said softly. "You've slept late."

I did my best to act as though I'd just stirred.

"How late is it?" I asked in what I hoped was a groggy voice.

"Not very," he said, "but the army left a while ago. You should probably be getting up."

I nodded and looked tentatively up at him out of the corner of my eye. I noticed he hadn't removed his hand from my shoulder, and it felt unusually warm beneath his touch. I didn't want him to move.

All of a sudden, it seemed as though my friend became aware of what he was doing. He jerked his hand away from me, and it left a tepid spot on my skin. He looked down, then up, then away.

"You should get up," he said quickly before rising from beside me and hurriedly leaving. My heart sank as I watched him go.

That day was the worst. We barely even saw each other much less spoke, and we didn't even _think_ about any type of physical contact. I could have dealt with the separation though, if it didn't _hurt_ so much. Every time I caught sight of my friend it was as though a new rift had been torn in the fabric of my being that just wouldn't heal. It felt like my feelings for him and my inhibitions about expressing them were literally tearing me apart from the inside out. I didn't know if he felt the same, but in a way I dreaded finding out more than not. If it were just my feelings that were ruining our friendship, I would never be able to forgive myself.

Once the sun set I went to bed, not only because it was something to do but also because all my mental battling during the day had left me with a splitting headache. I lay on the ground with my eyes shut and tried not to think about anything, which of course was wasted effort. My friend's face kept invading my mind's eye, and it drove me insane.

Much later when everyone else in the camp had gone to sleep – and I had pretended to do the same when Patroclus entered the tent – I passed out from sheer mental and emotional exhaustion. For a while my mind was a blank, dreamless plain, but after some amount of time that my latent mind could not determine, images began to appear. Once they began to solidify I could see them clearly, and to say they scared me was a gross understatement.

I was standing on the empty plain in front of the walls of Troy. The bodies from all the previous days of fighting lay around me, Greeks as well as Trojans. As I examined them closer, my stomach flipped. Each of the dead soldiers had my name written across his chest in blood.

I looked up from the grisly sight and noticed motion further away from me. I moved around the bodies to get closer, and it was my heart's turn to lurch. There were two men standing in front of each other, both of whom were very dear to me. One was Hector, and the other Patroclus.

As I watched, they both drew swords and began to circle each other. Instantly I knew I had to stop them, or someone would be killed. I tried to run forward but it was as though my feet were suddenly made of lead, and I kept tripping over the bodies. Finally I was about to break into the circle of empty ground that they were fighting in, but I hit something. I reeled back and tried again as Hector and Patroclus continued fighting, but it was useless. There was some invisible thing in the air that kept me from getting to them.

I threw myself against the barrier again and again, and finally started hitting it with my fists in an effort to get their attention. It seemed to work, because they stopped fighting and turned to look at me. I screamed at what I saw.

Both of them had been mortally wounded, Patroclus by a gash in the throat and Hector by a stab to the chest. As the blood seeped over their bodies it congealed to form my name.

I screamed again as they both fell to the ground. In the impenetrable air before me appeared words, also written in blood.

_They belong to you._

My eyes shot open and I immediately sat up. I had to clamp a had over my mouth to keep my cries from escaping as hot tears stung my eyes and spilled over onto my cheeks. I felt as though I was choking on the air in my throat from the effort of not making any noise. I glanced back at Patroclus; he was still asleep. I had to get out before I woke him, so I leapt to my feet and bolted from the tent. My feet carried me to the beach and I collapsed on the sand, finally giving in to the raking sobs that shook my whole body. I buried my face in my arm and tried to stay quiet.

I wasn't sure how long I was there, but eventually I had calmed down enough to go back to the tent. My eyes burned and my lungs hurt, and when I entered I risked a glance at Patroclus, still asleep on the other side of the tent. The words from my dream came back in full force.

_They belong to you._

If anything ever happened to him because of me, I knew I would never be able to live with myself. If his death did truly belong to me…I didn't know what I would do.

I was too lost in my thoughts to realize there were tears rolling down my cheeks again. A sob escaped my throat before I could stop myself.

Patroclus opened his eyes slowly enough for me to turn quickly away and try to compose myself. I sat on my bed and attempted to control my ragged breathe.

"Myla?" I heard him murmur. "Are you alright?"

I couldn't speak, so I just nodded furiously with my back turned. I heard him rise and come to sit next to me.

"You're crying," he pointed out. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I croaked, barely above a whisper. "Bad dream."

He cautiously slipped an arm around my shoulders. My breathing slowed, but my heartbeat soared.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. I shook my head. There were a few more moments of quiet.

"Do you want to cry some more?" he said softly. I nodded as a fresh wave of tears spilled over my eyes. I wasn't sure why at the time, but I reached over and wrapped my arms around his neck. He didn't pull away, but gathered me close to him and allowed me to sob.

A while later, I was settled down again. My cheeks were soaked and my eyes stung, but for some reason I felt good. I kept my arms around Patroclus; he was wonderfully solid. I could feel his heart beating in his chest. I closed my eyes and concentrated on its rhythmic pulsing, and soon my own heart slowed to match it.

"Feel better?" he asked. I nodded, but I wasn't ready to stop holding him.

"Don't go," I whispered. "Not yet."

"I won't."

We sat in warm and comfortable silence for a while longer. Patroclus took his hand and wiped the tears from my face, and when he was finished, I held his hand in mine and pressed it to my cheek. I felt him lean over and kiss my forehead.

I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. We didn't say anything, but something tacit passed between us in that moment. I could feel him coming closer, but I was too lost in his eyes to do anything other than lean towards him. His mouth was soft where it pressed against mine, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as his hands encircled my waist. I forgot my nightmare, the time I had spent crying, and anything that had come between us in the past few days, and kissed him.

The night wore on, but as I lay in the tent with my head on Patroclus' shoulder I never wanted it to end. One of my arms lay draped across his chest, and with the other I twisted a lock of his hair between my fingers. He smiled down at me.

"You're shivering," he said. He reached behind me and pulled the blanket over my shoulders. "You should sleep."

"So should you," I pointed out.

"I don't want to close my eyes," he confessed. "I'm afraid that this was all a dream."

"If it is," I reassured him, "it's the best dream I've ever had."

He turned his head and kissed my palm.

"Promise me you'll be here when I wake up," he whispered.

"I promise."

The next thing I knew, there was sunlight filtering into the tent. It wasn't this that had awakened me so much as noise and motion at the door, and I blinked a few times and shifted my head just enough to be able to see a shadow retreat from view. I tried to say something, but whatever words my drowsy mind had planned to construct escaped my lips in the form of a groan.

Patroclus shifted and looked down at me. He smiled.

"You're still here," he murmured.

"I promised I would be," I reminded him. "Besides, it's not as if I had any motivation to go away."

His smile threatened to consume his entire face. I moved forward just enough to be next to him and brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes, and he threaded his fingers in between mine. Before I knew it, I was kissing him again.

And before I knew that was happening, it was over. A new shadow had appeared in the doorway, accompanied a moment later by the figure of Achilles. Patroclus seemed to sense something wasn't right; he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Get dressed," Achilles growled before stalking out.

"What was that about?" I asked once he was gone.

"I'm not sure," Patroclus confessed, "but if he's angry it's best to do as he says."

We did, and left the tent to find that it was later than we expected. The army was gone and the Myrmidons were mulling about as usual, and when they saw us almost every single one of them said something to his companion. I could feel my face turning red; I was fairly certain I knew what they were whispering about.

Before I had the chance to think much on the subject, Eudorus came over and spoke to Patroclus.

"Your cousin wants to see you at his tent," he told him. "Alone."

Patroclus nodded and rested his hand briefly on my shoulder before following the general. Just before they entered Achilles' tent, Briseis left it and walked towards me.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," I confessed. We headed again for the beach. "Achilles came into the tent this morning and he seemed rather angry, but he wouldn't say why."

"Eudorus called him outside around that same time," Briseis told me. "I couldn't hear what they were saying, but when I looked out he seemed upset."

I suddenly and irrationally found myself worrying about Patroclus. I knew his cousin would never hurt him on purpose, but when the man was infuriated he was often unpredictable.

Briseis and I walked around for a while and I kept a close eye on the tent, and after what seemed like an eternity I saw Patroclus stalk out with a look of poorly disguised rage etched onto his face. I said a hurried goodbye to Briseis and followed him back to his tent. Just as I walked in, he threw something violently against the wall and sank to the ground.

"What happened?" I asked, hurrying over to him. He didn't answer, but rubbed his face with his hands. I sat down next to him.

"Talk to me," I begged him. "What's the matter? What did he want?"

I put a hand to his cheek and turned his head.

"Please tell me. I can't help if you won't tell me."

He said nothing, but rather suddenly he pulled my face closer and kissed me. I kissed him back of course, but in my mind I knew something wasn't right. He seemed too frantic, too distracted, too worried. When it was finished, he leaned his forehead against mine.

"You know I would never let anything bad happen to you?" he whispered.

"I know," I assured him. He kissed my forehead and pulled me closer.

"I love you."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I've reordered some things in the movie to better fit this story, so don't be confused.

*****

From that point on, we were inseparable. I never really managed to remember how many hours were left in a day or how many had already passed, but as long as I was with Patroclus I didn't care. We talked quite a lot, and I told him everything about my past; the farm I lived on, my friends and family, and everything that I had ever hoped for. Everything just felt so natural with him around.

That being said, we did encounter some problems. Achilles was the most prevalent of them, and the night after he and Patroclus had their talk I found out something of why he was so upset. My friend and I were summoned down to a fire that had been set up further away from the Myrmidon's normal circle. Sitting around it were Achilles, Briseis, Eudorus, and Odysseus.

"Take a seat," Eudorus offered. We did, and observed the circle. No one looked each other in the eye, and they seemed on edge.

"Well there's no point in ignoring this any longer," Odysseus began with a heavy sigh. "There are certain actions that must be taken if you two are to stay out of trouble."

Patroclus and I glanced at each other. We knew what he was talking about; we no longer tried to keep it a secret.

"First thing's first," Eudorus said, "We have to either find a safer place for Myla to stay, or get her back to Troy."

Patroclus stiffened and took my hand.

"Why?" I asked. I no longer wanted to leave as much as I had before, and I knew the reason why.

The assembled people glanced at each other.

"For your own safety," Eudorus told us. "And for the safety of…anyone else."

"Like who, me?" Patroclus asked. We were both getting confused, and everyone around the fire exchanged another collective glimpse.

"Well, I suppose you would be included," Odysseus admitted, "but we weren't referring exclusively to you."

"Don't act stupid," Achilles snapped. "You know the consequences of your actions."

"If you-" Odysseus motioned to me, "are with child now, then-"

"Wait, wait," I cut him off. "Why on earth would I be with child?"

As the group looked at each other again, all the disjointed pieces clicked together in my mind.

"Wait, you think we…"

"Oh god!" Patroclus exclaimed when he understood.

For once, it was everyone else's turn to be confused.

"Wait," Eudorus said, "you mean you didn't-"

"NO!" we shouted in unison.

An awkward silence descended on the group, broken only a moment later by Briseis' badly stifled chuckling.

"Oh, it's funny," she said defensively when everyone looked at her. "On some level, it's funny."

"Well now that that's dealt with," Odysseus said, "we can move on to…actually, I think that was basically all we had to discuss."

"Can we leave now then?" Patroclus asked. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shoot a glance at his cousin, who didn't meet his gaze.

"I suppose."

My friend and I rose from the circle and were about to head back to the tent, but Achilles grabbed Patroclus' shoulder and asked to speak to him privately. I watched them talk a little ways off; Achilles kept his arms crossed and his eyes on the ground for a minute or so, and moved the sand around with his foot. My guess was that he was apologizing. After that was through he returned to his normal self, and it was Patroclus' turn to look awkward. It worried me a little (mostly because I was fairly certain I was the subject of their conversation) but before I could think on it too much Patroclus left his cousin and we headed back to the tent. As I sort of suspected, he wouldn't tell me anything, and while I fell asleep against him that night I tried my hardest not to think on it.

The next morning found the Myrmidon camp in a bit of a buzz. I awoke to see that Patroclus had already dressed and was sitting next to me, looking pensive.

"Morning," I said. He looked over abruptly, startled from his reverie, and smiled.

"Morning."

"What's going on?" I asked. The noise level outside was significantly greater than normal.

"The Myrmidons decided to go watch the battles today," he informed me. "If you'd like, we can go."

"I suppose," I said with a nod. He smiled again, but his face betrayed the slightest expression of sadness, or some emotion like it. Again I tried not to concentrate on it, but I still retained an uneasy feeling in the back of my mind.

All the same, I dressed and followed the rest of the Myrmidons to a hill overlooking the battlefield. I couldn't help but be shocked at the overall size of the Greek army; they seemed to consume the landscape as they marched forward to meet the Trojans. Turning to observe what was technically my army, I saw Hector and Paris sitting on horseback at the head of the soldiers. The sight of my almost adoptive father released some tension in my throat. He was all right.

The Greek army stopped their advance just soon enough to leave a patch of ground between themselves and the Trojans. In unison, they moved from their battle stances to a position of waiting with spears rested against the ground, and I had to admit the effect was rather powerful.

A tense silence pervaded the air, broken only by the sound of horse steps as the kings of Greece and the princes of Troy rode forward to meet in the middle of the empty patch of ground. Hector and Paris dismounted their horses and the kings left their chariots, and they stood talking for a few minutes. At one point Menelaus and Agamemnon had their own conversation, and afterwards everyone headed back to their respective sides but told their armies to hold. I observed the Trojan army and was surprised to find that Paris was putting on his helmet and holding his spear. Looking back to the Greeks, I found Menelaus doing the same.

"Are they going to fight?" Patroclus asked.

"It would look that way," Eudorus told him as the two men moved to the center and everyone else backed up.

"This won't be a fight," I said darkly. "It'll be a massacre."

"You think Paris will beat Menelaus?"

"No, I think Menelaus is going to annihilate Paris."

A few of the Myrmidons who heard gave me surprised looks.

"I thought you were a Trojan," one of them asked.

"I'm also a realist," I told them. "Paris is a good archer and he can throw a spear rather well, but at hand-to-hand combat he's completely useless."

The comparatively short battle lived up to my expectations. Menelaus would have killed Paris, but the prince ducked out of the path of his sword and scuttled across the ground to his brother. Menelaus screamed something that was muffled and unrecognizable from where I was and followed him. It looked to me as though he was about to try to kill Paris at Hector's feet, but before it could happen the elder prince pulled out his sword and stabbed Menelaus straight through his stomach.

Almost instantly, everything erupted into chaos. The Greeks fell back into their fighting stance as Paris was rushed behind the walls. Just as Agamemnon called for a forward advance, the archers on the wall released a volley of arrows toward the foreign army. Most of the front line of soldiers fell right away, but the army kept moving forward.

"They're getting too close to the walls," I pointed out. It certainly seemed that way; the foot army still didn't move, but Greeks were falling dead in front of them. Finally Hector sent them running towards their enemies, and swords and spears were added to the already anarchic mess. The battle raged on in this manner for a while, until it became clear that the Greeks were being defeated. The Myrmidons became significantly disheartened and distracted in the battle, so when Patroclus took my hand and led me off the hill and behind the cover of a group of boulders, they didn't notice.

"What're we doing here?" I asked. He kept glancing over his shoulder and all around him, presumably to see if he had been followed. His behavior worried me a little.

"Patroclus, what's wrong?"

He sighed while holding both my hands in his, and glanced off to his left and over the edge of the small ditch we were in. He wouldn't look me in the eye.

"In a few minutes, the army will go back inside the wall," he said in a low, almost numb monotone. "Once the Greeks are far enough away, run towards the wall. If anyone asks who you are, say you're from a farm high up in the mountains and you just heard you had to come to the city."

I was confused, hurt, and scared all at once.

"B-but why?" I managed to stutter. He sighed and kept his eyes on my hands.

"Because that is where you're safest," he said. "Most people at the camp know about…_us,_ and I don't want one of them to figure out that they could use you to get to me. If you were ever hurt because of me…"

He sighed again.

"I don't know what I would do."

I was no longer hurt or confused, but the fear lingered. Mostly, I was afraid of the thought of something happening to him when I wasn't there to prevent it. Barely a shadow in my mind was the fear of something happening to me. But the thing that made me the most apprehensive was the idea of not seeing him every day as I had for the past month or so.

"I don't want to go," I whispered, hearing the pain in my own voice. He sighed and pulled me close.

"I don't want you to go either," he said. "But the one thing I want more is for you to be safe. If this is the only way to make sure that happens, so be it."

He pulled back a little and dropped something into my hand. I uncurled my fingers and looked down to see the seashell necklace he always wore.

"Keep it," he said. I immediately clasped it around my neck.

"I wish I had something for you," I confessed. In a more pained voice I added, "I'm afraid I'll never see you again."

He embraced me again and spoke into my ear.

"I _will_ find you again," he said, gently but forcefully. "No matter the outcome of this war, no matter who wins, I will find you. I promise."

I held him tighter and, more than ever, I never wanted to let go.

Unfortunately, that wasn't to be. The army started retreating back behind the walls, and Patroclus hurriedly sent me over the edge of the hill. Before I left I took a last look over my shoulder at him. My first instinct was to run back, but I didn't. As he stood there looking back at me, I suddenly had an ominous feeling. I didn't want it to be true, but for some reason I thought my greatest fear would be realized, and I would never see him again.

I tried to shake the sensation as I ran towards the wall. It seemed that the Trojan soldiers didn't notice me, but someone else apparently did; as I ran, a spear flew past me and grazed my leg. I cried out in pain and stumbled on the ground. There was a gash across my hip and the pain seared through my muscles, but I had to ignore the blood and keep running. I managed to stumble to the gate just before they closed it.

Inside the city of Troy, it seemed as if everything was exactly as it had been when I left it. Soldiers ran about trying to get things arranged, but unlike last time no one noticed me. My injury was bleeding rather profusely, so I stumbled away from the main entrance and found a quiet spot to sit and examine it. The blood was dripping down my leg, so I tore a piece of cloth from my skirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound. Once I had secured it as much as I could, I leaned my head back against the wall and thought over my situation.

I had to find my family. I didn't know where they might be, but I assumed the refugees from the surrounding countryside would have to be housed somewhere in the city. I decided to go first to the temple of Hestia nearby; the most logical place to house people who had no home to go to was under the protection of the goddess of the hearth.

My leg throbbed with every step I took, but I kept walking. My original assumption was correct, and I entered to find the temple crowded with people. The priestesses were attending to the sick and wounded and passing out food. One of them noticed me standing in the doorway and came over.

"Do you need something dear?" she asked kindly.

"I'm looking for my family," I told her. "They came from a farm outside the city, but we were separated and I don't know where they went."

"Well, these people came from the outside country," the woman told me. "You're welcome to have a look around."

"Thank you."

I wandered the temple slowly so as to not draw attention to my leg, which had now given me a rather pronounced limp. People looked up at me as I drew near, and watched me as I passed. Their faces were gaunt, frightened, and for the most part, completely unfamiliar. Fenthius, Amanthe, and Diones were not here.

"Did you find them?" the priestess asked as I left. I shook my head.

"Is this everyone who came in?" I asked.

"No," she told me. "The rest are scattered amongst the other temples."

I thanked her and left, but I knew the chances of finding my family again had just grown infinitesimally small. I struck out along another avenue and spent the rest of the day limping from temple to temple, working my way from one end of the city to the other. Before I knew it dusk had fallen over the streets, and I still hadn't found my uncle or cousins. The blood from my leg had slowly but surely been soaking through the makeshift bandage all day, and as darkness approached I could feel myself getting dizzy.

As I passed the main street again, I looked up at the palace. There were lights in many of the windows, and I began to think of food and rest. At the time I couldn't have said why, but I began to walk towards it. As I went the pain in my leg became more and more pronounced, but my mind was growing just as dim as the impending night, and it was barely a shadow in my thoughts. I approached the long set of stairs that led to the entrance hall of the royal house, and I was about to ascend the steps when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice asked me. I looked to my right to see a royal guard staring down at me. "I said, where do you think you're going?"

"I need to rest," I murmured. My voice sounded alien to me.

"You can rest somewhere else," he said officially. "Move along."

I could barely see his face now, my head was swimming so much.

"Myla!" another voice called out. "Wait, I know her!"

I turned my head to see another soldier coming towards us. I knew him too; it was Trion, Amanthe's husband.

"Where have you been?" he asked when he got to me. "We've been looking for you for almost a month now!"

"I need to rest," I repeated. My mind knew no other words to say, and Trion looked worried.

"What happened to your leg?" he asked, noticing the wound.

"I need to rest."

He spoke to me again, but he may as well have been talking underwater. My vision too had become obscured by darkness, and subconsciously I knew it wasn't due to the absence of sunlight. I tried to take a step forward, but before my foot hit the ground everything went black and my mind was wiped of thought.


	8. Chapter 8

My head swam. A beam of light lay directly across my face, and even though my eyes were shut it still burned a dull orange through my lids. I was somehow aware that I hadn't been awake for a while, but when I tried to think back on the events prior to my collapse, I recalled nothing. I made an attempt to lift my arm, but every part of my body felt as if it was made of lead. Unable to move, feel, or think, I simply lay were I was and listened.

There were voices approaching. They sounded muffled at first, but just then there was a creaking sound and they became much clearer.

"…Where she was or what she was doing," the first voice, which was Hector, finished.

"She was gone for over a month." It was my uncle Fenthius. "Trion said she didn't acknowledge him when he spoke to her; is it possible she somehow lost her memory?"

"I suppose anything's possible at this point," Hector agreed.

I tried desperately to move, or speak, or do anything that would let them know I could hear them and I knew them, but my numb body wouldn't respond.

I heard Fenthius sigh.

"What have you been up to, child?" he whispered, presumably at me.

I felt something lightly stroke my forehead. The instant it touched me I was suddenly able to feel every part of me again. I groaned and opened my eyes.

Everything was out of focus at first, but after blinking a few times I could see my uncle standing over me smiling.

"Welcome home," he said. I did my best to look cheerful.

My vision was now a bit better, and I peered behind Fenthius to see Hector gazing down at me.

"Glad to see you're feeling better," he said. "Can you speak?"

"I think so." My voice sounded as though I had swallowed gravel, but at least it was working.

Hector and Fenthius glanced at each other, and their smiles faded a bit.

"Where have you been?" my uncle asked. "Amanthe said you told her to run and find me then run to the city a month ago when the war started. Where did you go?"

I wasn't sure how much I should tell them, but in the end I confessed to going off to fight. As it turned out, their reaction to it surprised me more than my news evidently surprised them.

"We know," Fenthius said when I told them about going out to the first battle. "Another woman in the army told us she knew you went out."

"Who told you?" I asked.

"Her name was Kileis, I think," Hector told me. "Unfortunately, she died soon after telling us."

I was saddened by the news, but I knew that, out of all the women, Kileis was prepared to die in battle.

"But where did you go afterwards?" my uncle asked. I told them about trying to rescue Briseis, being captured, and becoming a prisoner of war. Beyond that, of course, I started editing my story. My entire friendship with Patroclus was eliminated, as well, of course, as everything that developed from it. I don't think they suspected anything, but I almost broke down when I thought about my friend back at the Greek camp.

"So you escaped?" Hector asked. "How did you get back?"

"They let me go," I said honestly. A wave of sudden anguish passed over me at the thought of my last meeting with Patroclus, and I had to turn my head away so they wouldn't see my distress.

"Did they hurt you?" Fenthius asked me, in a voice both caring and suspicious.

"No," I said honestly, shaking my head. Suddenly, everything I did or said reminded me of my friend. I hoped he was thinking of me as well, and as I pictured him sitting on the beach, as we had done so many times together, my eyes began to sting with tears. I blinked them back furiously, and thankfully the men didn't notice.

I spent the rest of the day lying in one place, because I had been advised by a doctor to not put too much pressure on my hurt leg. It didn't matter to me; I had nowhere I wanted to go now that I knew I would have to go alone. My thoughts revolved around Patroclus; where he was, what he was doing, and whether or not he was thinking about me. Each time I wondered about him, it hurt more and more. I'd never cried so much in my life.

I hoped my misery would improve with time, but it seemed to have the exact opposite effect, and once I was able to walk, I wandered the palace like a ghost. In the back of my mind I knew that what I was doing was immature, obsessive, and unhealthy, but I couldn't help it. I discovered one night that if I sat on the wall in the place where the royal family would go to watch the field down below, I could see the fires of the Greek camp on the beach. If I looked close enough, I could find the light that I was sure was the Myrmidon campfire, and from there I could locate Patroclus' tent, or what I thought was his tent. I sat out on the wall many nights and watched the distant shore, missing him terribly.

My family, of course, was worried about me. Each of them tried on at least one occasion to get me to talk to them, but each time I insisted I was fine. I honestly tried to be a little more cheerful to see them again, but none of them believed me. Hector, especially, seemed driven mad by my mood, and I had a suspicion that he felt partly responsible for allowing me, however inadvertently, to go out and fight on the day I was captured. He made several valiant attempts to get me to tell him what the problem was, but I wouldn't. I didn't think I should, because if I honestly told him the entire truth, he might get angry. Greeks and Trojans weren't supposed to associate with each other anywhere other than the battlefield; friendship or love among them was a thing not even thought of. At the same time, however, I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to know what I should do, or if there was anything I _could_ do. The problem was that everyone that I knew well enough to ask for advice supported the Trojans, and would have most likely been just as upset with me as Hector. So I stayed in my despondent and closed-down shell, and each day I wanted more than anything to be back at the camp on the beach.

Finally, one night about two weeks after I had come back to Troy, the truth came out. I was sitting on the wall again and watching the fires on the beach. Earlier in the evening they had burned the funeral pyres, a sight I was always careful to miss. Even though I knew I would never be able to tell, I was constantly afraid of looking down at one of them and seeing Patroclus' face in the flames. So I stayed inside until the smoke from them had passed, and then I took up my sitting place.

There were footsteps behind me as someone else came up the stairs and onto the wall. I expected it to be Fenthius or Hector (I had been particularly distant that day), so when Helen sat down on the wall opposite to me I was surprised. She said nothing for a few moments, but followed my gaze out to the beach.

"Which fire is his?" she asked suddenly. I tore my eyes away from the camp and looked at her.

"Whose?"

"The boy that you're in love with."

I said nothing, but hurriedly turned my gaze back out to the water.

"Your family doesn't notice," she said, "but if there's one thing I can spot it's someone who's lovesick, and you definitely qualify. So, which fire is his?"

I sighed and pointed.

"That one," I said quietly. "I think."

We collapsed into silence, but I was thinking about what she had said. It struck me as odd that the former queen of Sparta would be concerned with my romantic problems.

"What's his name?" Helen asked. I sighed again.

"Patroclus."

"Is he a soldier?"

"Yes." I paused. "Why are you asking me this?"

It was her turn to sigh.

"I'll be honest," she began. "The first reason is that no one else can figure out what's wrong with you. Hector actually asked me to approach you and find out because…how did he put it? Ah yes: 'Angst-ridden women are not my area of expertise.'"

I couldn't help but smile.

"But I suppose my greatest personal reason is that I want to help you. I know what it's like to be in your position."

"You don't truly know what it's like to –" I paused, and my face softened. "Well, I suppose of anyone here, you do."

She smiled and nodded.

"Which brings us to the next problem; how to get you to him or him to you."

"I don't think there's any way to accomplish that," I sighed miserably. "The fact that I'm even thinking of it would be considered treason to some."

"But not your family," she pointed out. "They're understanding people, and most of all they love you. Besides, your love will not determine the outcome of this war, so why worry?"

"It might have a significant impact though," I murmured. Helen looked at me curiously.

"Why?"

"His cousin is Achilles," I confessed. "They're very attached to each other, and I'm not sure what the man would do if Patroclus were to leave."

"That is a problem," Helen confessed. "But in the end, it's not his life to decide what to do with."

We were quiet for a while longer.

"So what would you recommend I do?" I asked. Helen smiled and reached over to place a hand on my shoulder.

"This is going to sound stereotypical and overused," she said, "but follow your heart. In the end, that's what will tell you the truth."

She got up to leave.

"Helen?" I called before she left the balcony.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

She beamed kindly at me.

"You're welcome dear."

I sat where I was on the wall for a while afterwards, watching the distant lights of the camp and thinking over what she had said. For the first time since I had returned to Troy, I felt awake and alert. A plan began to form in my mind. On some level I dreaded being caught, because if I were it would mean that I would be in more trouble than I'd ever gotten into in my whole life. But all the same, I decided to go through with it.

The night was still relatively young while I waited in the shadows at the gate. I had told my family I was going to sleep, then dressed swiftly and stuffed the bed with pillows so they would think I was still there. I made my way through the dark and deserted streets of Troy to the gate, where I sat waiting.

Finally, the chance I needed arrived. A man driving a cart filled with hay stopped at the gate and requested to be let out. As he was waiting for the doors to open, I slipped behind and hid myself beneath the load. We passed swiftly from behind the walls and to the outside world.

I managed to hit another lucky break; the man who was driving the cart made his way towards the area of farms where my house was. Once we approached it, I slid from the back of the wagon and hurried towards the hill that contained my house. From there I knew I could – in a rather roundabout way – make it to the beach and back before the night was over, if I hurried. My feet padded over the soft ground as I slipped through the farm fields that were now sprouting weeds and around to the back of the empty plain. I moved quietly across the base of a set of cliffs that led to the beach. The moon was high in the sky now, and it lit my path to the tents of the Greek soldiers. As I approached I pulled up the hood on the cloak I had donned over my dress in an attempt to blend in with the darkness. I was actually dressed more femininely than normal; the midnight blue dress I had found fell to my ankles and its sweeping neckline framed my throat, around which hung the seashell necklace Patroclus had given me just before I left. Contrary to its normal style, my hair flowed freely down my back.

I seemed to have taken more time to get to the camp than I had expected, for when I arrived most everyone had gone to sleep. Luckily the fires hadn't entirely burned out yet, but had merely been reduced to smoldering coals. Once my feet touched the sand, I could have gotten to my destination with a blindfold. The path I followed silently was one I had trodden upon many times: the route to Patroclus' tent from the Myrmidon's campfire.

When I pulled back the leather straps and entered the tent, everything was exactly as I had left it. Even my bed still sat off to the side, as if I was expected to return any time to lie down on it. The light from the moon outside shone through the doorway and cast a long shadow of my hooded figure clear to the back wall of the tent where Patroclus lay.

My first reaction was sweeping relief at seeing him unhurt. I sighed, and he shifted a little. Just as I was thinking I shouldn't wake him, he opened his eyes and, catching sight of my silhouette, sat bolt upright.

"Who's there?" he asked coarsely. I realized he couldn't see my face due to the dark and the hood, so I took a step forward. He jumped to his feet and stared at me.

"Who are you?"

"A friend," I said softly.

I took another step forward and lifted the hood back from my face. Patroclus seemed shocked at first, but before I knew it we were embracing each other. I had forgotten how good it felt to kiss him.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked. "How did you get back?"

"I've lived here for eighteen years," I pointed out. "I think I know my way around."

I smiled at him and brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes.

"I missed you," I said quietly.

His response made it clear he felt the same.

A while later, I lay on the ground with my head on his shoulder. For the first time in two weeks, I was comfortable and happy. Patroclus' hand stroked my hair.

"You look tired," he pointed out. "Would you like to go to sleep?"

"I can't," I confessed. "I have to go soon."

His smile faded.

"Why?" he asked.

"No one knows I'm gone," I told him. "I have to get back before they find out."

"You don't have to leave," he whispered. I looked at him.

"Where else would I go?"

"You could stay with me," he said. "I can protect you, no matter what my cousin says-"

"What did your cousin say?" I interrupted. He sighed and looked away.

"It wasn't my idea to send you back to Troy," he admitted. "Achilles said it was better for you because I was too young and foolish to keep you safe. But he's wrong; I wouldn't let you be hurt."

I smiled and cupped his cheek.

"I know." I paused a moment before adding, _"My_ safety isn't what would worry me."

He sighed, and his face betrayed the fact that there was something else on his mind.

"What is it?"

"The Myrmidons are supposed to leave tomorrow," he confessed. "Achilles says we're sailing home at first light."

I stiffened. This changed things.

"You're going?" I said, stunned. "Back to Greece?"

"That's the idea," he sighed. I turned my head away, and he held my face in his hands.

"Myla, look at me." I did so, perhaps a bit tentatively. "I'm not going back to Greece if you're not coming with, and if you can't go then I'll stay here. I won't leave you."

"We couldn't do that," I told him somberly. "I couldn't desert my family; they'd be hurt and angry, and so would your cousin. We both know that."

He held my hands and didn't remove his eyes from them.

"I know," he said. "I just wish there was a better way for this to end."

I drew one of my hands away and lifted his chin so he looked me in the eye.

"I refuse to believe it has to end," I said gently but firmly. "And I refuse to believe there's not a better way."

He drew me closer and kissed the top of my head.

"Just don't go yet," he whispered. "Please."

I sighed.

"I can stay a bit longer," I relented.

Despite what I told Patroclus, I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke, there was movement in the camp and for a moment I was terrified that it was already morning and the army was leaving. But as I heard a horn sounding outside and realized there was no sunlight filtering into the tent, I knew something was wrong.

"Patroclus," I said, shaking him by the shoulders. "Wake up; I think something's happening."

He was groggy at first, but once the sound of the horn reached his ears he sat bolt upright.

"Uh-oh," he muttered. I was instantly afraid.

"What do you mean, 'uh-oh'?" I asked in a worried tone. "What do those things mean?"

"They mean we're under attack," he said gravely.

No sooner had the words escaped his lips than a bright light flew into a tent further down from us, causing it to erupt into flames. Patroclus jumped to his feet and ran to the doorway to look out. What he saw caused him to swear under his breath.

"They're all over the place," he said as he came back to me.

"Well what do we do?" I asked.

"I'm not sure." He ran a hand over his face and looked around the room briefly as the sound of the attack continued. "We should probably get out, just in case…"

"Just in case what?" I asked. He didn't respond, but stared. I followed his gaze to the set of armor in the corner.

"I have an idea," he said as he turned and moved to the door. I followed him.

"Where are you going?" I ran after him.

"Go back to the tent," he said, turning around to look at me but still moving forward. "You're safer there."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what you're planning," I said, stubbornly following him. "Where are we going?"

"I need to find something."

We ran towards the ships on the beach, and I followed Patroclus towards the one on the end. I assumed this was they Myrmidon ship; it had been loaded already. Patroclus was already rummaging through the ship when I hopped onto the deck and jumped down into the ship's lower deck. He apparently found what he was searching for tucked away in a corner somewhere, because when I finally found him he was dressed in his cousin's armor.

"What are you doing?" I hissed at him. "If you go out there everyone will think you're Achilles!"

"That's the idea," he said.

I was shocked, to say the very least.

"Wait – why?"

"Because I've found a better way."

A nearby explosion caused us to jump.

"A better way?" I asked, though I knew what he was referring to.

"If I go out there," he explained, "what you said will be true: everyone will think I'm my cousin. That includes Hector."

I hadn't thought of him in a while. Suddenly, it occurred to me how much trouble I would be in if I were found at the Greek camp, and for that matter Patroclus might incur some of the prince's wrath if our relationship was discovered.

"So how does that help?" I questioned tentatively.

"If Hector thinks Achilles has come to the battle, he'll want to fight him," Patroclus said. "If I can draw him away from everyone else and then tell him that I'm not actually my cousin, then perhaps we'd have a moment to have a civilized talk."

"That would be a good idea," I told him, "if it weren't for the fact that it means you two will still have to do some fighting."

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to kill him."

"I'm not worried about you killing him," I stated honestly. "I'm afraid that he might kill you."

"That's where you come in," my friend continued. "You watch us and wait until we're away from the group, then come out. If he sees you, he'll stop fighting and listen."

I had my doubts, the most prevalent being that it wouldn't be nearly as easy as Patroclus had projected to get Hector to leave the main scene of the battle, even if he did think he was fighting the Myrmidon leader. Not to mention, the thought of either of them being hurt filled me with an inexpressible dread.

The sounds from the outside world had changed. The soldiers were mobilizing for battle, and Patroclus looked at me.

"Find us near the cliffs on this side of the camp," he told me. "That's where I'll try to draw him."

I nodded, and reached up to kiss him. He held me close for a moment before pulling away and donning the helmet. I had never seen him in battle armor before; he looked fierce, and to be truthful it frightened me a little. He flashed me a smile from behind the metal and hurried to the deck of the ship.

I lingered for a moment below deck. Outside I could hear the sounds of the Myrmidons cheering, having evidentially believed that their leader had returned. A moment later the shouting increased tenfold as the rest of the Greek army fell into the ruse.

Now was my time to leave. I peeked cautiously out of the belly of the ship to make sure no one was around, then hopped onto the deck and sprinted off towards the cliffs. It seemed the entire army was at the battle, because no one stopped me as I ran. I, however, no longer cared about this; my only concern was to find Patroclus and Hector as fast as I could and stop their fighting before something terrible happened.

I arrived at the cliff, but they were nowhere to be seen, so I settled down to wait behind a boulder with a knot in my throat. This plan was risky and foolish, and I could have named ten ways for it to go wrong off the top of my head. No matter how hard I tried, images from the dream that I had that night a few weeks ago kept invading my mind and mounting my anxiety. I wished more than anything to keep the events of the nightmare as just a delusion of sleep and not a prophetic vision.

I was abruptly startled from my thoughts by the nearby clamor of clashing metal. I peered out from my hiding place to see Hector and Patroclus swinging their swords at each other. Instantly I felt a pull in my limbs to run to them and stop their fighting, but logical thought overrode this choice by pointing out that they were still too close to the army to do so without attracting attention. So I was forced to remain where I was and pray to the gods that nothing would happen.

Their feet looked as though they were dancing about each other as the combat brought them closer and closer to me. I knew Patroclus was doing this on purpose, and I was thankful. The supposed "honor" of dying in battle was no longer existent in his mind.

I became more and more on edge as they moved nearer to me, because I could see that Hector was beginning to gain the upper hand. My heart rate climbed as they approached the rocks, and finally I could stand it no longer; I ran from my hiding place while shouting at them just as Hector threw another stroke of his sword at Patroclus.

I screamed, but not to get their attention. The blow had hit its mark, and before I could comprehend it there was blood pouring from Patroclus' neck. Hector saw me and started babbling, confused as to why I was there.

"How – where did – why are you…what on earth are you doing here?" he finally managed to spit.

I ignored him and dropped to Patroclus' side to remove the helmet while my vision blurred with tears. Hector was even more surprised to discover who he had actually been fighting, but all I could see was my friend's face, covered in blood and full of pain. He couldn't speak, but just kept coughing and staring imploringly at me. I could see in his eyes that he was afraid.

"Do you know this boy?" Hector asked. I nodded.

"Patroclus!" another voice shouted. I turned to see that Eudorus and Odysseus had somehow managed to extract themselves from the fighting and rushed towards us. They slowed as they saw what had happened.

"My god," was all Odysseus managed to whisper. Eudorus just stared at the limp form of what he had evidently thought was his master and tried to keep himself under control.

I turned my eyes back to my friend. I saw how much pain he was in, and even though I racked my brain to try to find a way to save him, I knew it would take a miracle to do so. Hector had evidently come to the same conclusion, for he gripped his sword tightly around the handle and raised it above Patroclus, preparing for the final stroke.

"Wait!" I shouted. He stopped, and instantly everyone's eyes turned to me.

"Myla," Hector tried to say delicately, "he's dying. There's nothing you can do for him."

"Yes there is," I said, not removing my eyes from my friend.

"Do you think you can save him?" Eudorus managed to croak.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "But I think I know someone who can."

I raised my eyes to the assembled men.

"I need a horse."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: This chapter cites another aspect of Homer's _Iliad,_ so as per my previously similar note I will explain to you here.

In the myth, Paris is killed, sometimes at the end of the war during the sack of Troy, and sometimes before then (consequentially, by one of Achilles' sons). Before he dies though, he goes to a wood nymph called Oenone, who was his girlfriend before the whole ordeal with Helen came around. He begs her to save him and when she refuses out of spite, he dies. Oenone, wracked with guilt over her actions, kills herself.

I won't tell you how this particular information works out in this story (wink, wink), but just know that Oenone is not a made-up character.

Oh, and that's really what Patroclus' dad's name was (or at least, that's what Wikipedia says it is). Don't ask me how to pronounce it; I have no idea.

*****

The woods beyond the fields seemed to move farther away the closer I got to them. I knew the horse I rode on could only go so fast, but in my mind we might as well have crawled across the ground. My haste was not on my account, but the person who rode with me in the saddle was the reason I knew every second counted. Finally, we cleared the fields and plunged headlong into the trees. I knew the route I was taking fairly well; I had walked it in my younger days with my mother. It was to an old friend of hers and mine that I was taking Patroclus.

Finally, I managed to find the small hut in the woods that I was looking for. I was relieved to see a thin trail of smoke curling from the top that indicated its inhabitant was in the dwelling, and the moment we came into view I started screaming her name.

"Oenone!" I cried. "Oenone, I need your help!"

At the insistence of my shouting, a woman emerged from the dwelling. She had long hair the color of tree bark, and green eyes like the leaves that grew above the ground. She moved with a swift grace as she rushed to my side as I slipped off the saddle and stared down at the figure in my arms.

"Dear god!" she muttered. "Myla, what happened?"

"I can't explain now," I said, my voice cracking from strained concern and the sheer effort required to not break down. "Can you help him?"

She gave a quick glance at the wound and nodded.

"I think so," she said. "Here, bring him inside."

We managed to get Patroclus into the hut and lay him on a low table in the center of the small, singular room. He had long since passed out, which was probably best for him; the pain was indisputably unbearable. I had torn off a piece of my cloak and packed it into the wound to try to quell the bleeding, and Oenone examined the bloody cloth as she prepared her materials.

"Did you do this?" she asked, indicating the rag. I nodded. "That was smart. You probably kept him from choking to death on his own blood, at least for a while."

"I just hope I delayed it long enough," I murmured. She glanced at me and looked as though she wanted to say something, but decided to keep it for a less critical time.

"Remove the cloth," she instructed me, "but keep your hand over his neck until I say otherwise."

I did, and immediately he started bleeding again. A pang of fear shot through me, but at that moment Oenone told me to take my hand away. She applied a generous layer of some clear salve over the wound before using a needle and thread to stitch the skin back together. Once the gash was closed she smeared more of the liniment over the area, then leaned back to examine her work.

"Now what do we do?" I asked worriedly.

"Now," she said, "we wait."

Waiting took an infuriatingly long time. We moved Patroclus to the one small bed in the corner, and I sat by his side and tried to keep my despondent thoughts from overtaking my conscious. Even so, some notions managed to creep into my mind. One moment he was dead where he lay before me; another, he had died before Oenone could save him, and I spent my hours staring at a lifeless body and waiting for it to become reanimated; finally, he was still alive, but when he awoke he wouldn't remember me. That scared me the most out of anything else.

"So who exactly is he?" Oenone asked about an hour into my vigil. I started from my thoughts and looked at her.

"The boy," she said, motioning to him with her hand. "Who is he?"

I spent the next hour or so explaining everything that had happened up until then, starting with the prince's return from Sparta and ending with Patroclus' fight with Hector. She listened without saying anything, but nodded from time to time to prompt me to continue.

"…And now we're here," I concluded. "You know the rest."

She nodded.

"I understand why you wanted me to save him so badly," she said. "But you do understand that even _if_ he survives this-"

"God, don't talk like that," I interrupted, looking back at Patroclus' face. It made me nervous when she used the word "if."

Oenone shrugged.

"Say it however you like," she told me, "but you're a smart girl; I'm sure you realize that this wouldn't be the end of your problems."

"I know," I sighed. "It would be the beginning."

We collapsed into silence for a while longer. There was a small window above the bed that was little more than a hole cut into the wall of the hut, and through it I could see that darkness had begun to descend. I thought of my family back in Troy. Hector would have most likely told them that he had seen me at the Greek camp during the battle, but no one would know why. I wondered briefly if Achilles had been told of Patroclus' fate, and if so, how he had reacted. An involuntary shudder of sympathy passed through me for the person (most likely Eudorus) who had to break the news to him; it was not bound to be pleasant.

The sun set, and still the hours dragged on. My eyelids began to feel heavy, and the more I struggled to keep them open, the harder it became. Finally I decided there was no harm in simply letting my head rest against the bed, and almost instantly, I was sound asleep.

I awoke the next morning to light streaming in through the window. I assumed it was probably around noon; I must have been more tired than I thought. I removed my eyes from the window to look at Patroclus' face, and as I did so my heart gave a jolt. He wasn't there.

I panicked. My mind flashed a thousand different messages at me as to where he could be, none of them pleasant. I jumped from my seat and started yelling as I searched the hut.

"Oenone!" I shouted. "Oenone, he's not here! He's not-"

The rest of my sentence was lost when I ran headfirst into someone coming through the door. My heart soared the moment I heard him talk.

"I'm right here."

I am not the type of female – or even the type of person – who would cry from happiness, but as I stood gazing up at Patroclus my face became rapidly drenched with tears. He smiled and pulled me closer.

"I'm right here."

I didn't wait to hear his explanation, but pulled his face down to my level and kissed him. My crinkled face made the tears run onto my lips and left a salty taste in my mouth, but I barely noticed for sheer delight. My gamble yesterday had worked; he was safe.

There was a small coughing sound from the doorway, and we turned to see Oenone smiling and carrying what appeared to be a slab of meat that had been cooked over a fire. We hastily moved out of the way for her, and she entered the hut laughing and shaking her head.

"If you're done macking," she said, "you can sit down and eat."

Patroclus and I exchanged smiles and followed her to the old wooden table.

We ate the lunch of lamb's meat and fruit that Oenone provided while talking over what we should do now.

"We'll have to get back to the camp," Patroclus said. "By now, they might all think I'm dead anyway."

"What do you suppose Achilles would do if he believed that?" I asked. I was a little afraid to find out what mental state the volatile man would go into if he thought he'd lost his cousin.

Patroclus thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure," he said honestly, "but it isn't bound to be good."

I was worried, but didn't show it.

A while later, Oenone was sufficiently convinced that her patient was not going to suffer a relapse, and she stood outside her hut saying goodbye to us.

"Now if anything should go wrong," she instructed him, "don't do anything before you come back and see me. The last thing we want is for that wound to open up and make all my hard work wasted."

"I'll definitely remember," he said, "and thank you."

I embraced her.

"You have no idea what a wonderful person you are," I said. She laughed a little.

"Just promise me you'll keep him out of trouble," she told me.

"I promise."

We rode the horse I had brought across the back of the plains and around the rocks, careful to avoid the battlefield. The ride was decidedly more pleasant than the one I had taken only yesterday; even the landscape seemed different.

As it turned out, there was a reason for that. We had taken an unfamiliar route back and gotten lost.

"Well, this is the beach," Patroclus pointed out as we stood by the shore watching the waves lap at our feet. "Now where's the camp?"

I looked down the beach as far as I could to our left, but no matter how much I strained my eyes, I saw nothing. I turned my gaze in the opposite direction, and off in the distance was the smoke from the fires of the Greek camps. It was already the afternoon, and from my estimate it would be evening before we could get there, but we turned the horse to the north and made our way back nonetheless.

In the end, I was right. By the time we were close enough to the camp to discern detailed movement, the sun had almost completely set behind the sea. We slipped off the horse and led it as quietly as possible to the tent that we knew belonged to Achilles. Leaving it tethered off to the side closest to the other tents, we slipped around the side and entered the tent.

At first, Achilles didn't see us. He sat on his cot, staring at the opposite wall, lost in thought. Patroclus gave a small cough to prompt him to look our way, and when he saw his cousin he sprang to his feet. His expression was a combination of shock and confusion.

"Y-you're alive," he stated dully.

Patroclus nodded and smiled.

"I'm alive."

Achilles looked at first as if he had never been happier in his life, but suddenly his face lost all of its delight and was overcome by sheer terror. He ran a hand through his hair and began frantically pacing the tent.

"Oh god," he muttered over and over, almost to himself. "Oh god, oh god, oh god…"

Patroclus looked back at me, confused.

"Cousin, what's wrong?"

Achilles stopped pacing for a moment and looked at him. All of a sudden, he was blabbering incoherently.

"I – you were dead – or, I thought you were dead – I wasn't thinking – things got out of hand – I…"

Patroclus walked over to his cousin and looked him hard in the eye.

"Achilles," he asked uneasily, "what have you done?"

The man didn't respond, but suddenly a wave of horror surged through me. My involuntary gasp made the two turn to look at me. I understood what had happened.

"Hector."

Patroclus turned back to his cousin. Slowly, without looking at either of us, Achilles nodded.

"I have to go back to Troy," I murmured.

"He's not in Troy."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Not in Troy?" Patroclus asked. "What do you mean, he's not in Troy?"

"Where?" I managed to whisper. Achilles pointed to his left without looking me in the eye. I didn't linger to hear his explanation, but rushed outside and around the corner of the tent.

The instant I caught sight of the mangled corpse, I screamed and turned away. I collapsed at the side of the tent and allowed myself to be overcome by anguish and guilt. Hector had died while I was away trying to save Patroclus. He had always been there for me whenever I needed him, but I wasn't there when he finally perished. For the first time, I wondered if the cost of my love was too great a price for me to pay.

Patroclus left the tent and glimpsed the body, his only response a sharp intake of breath. He sank to the ground next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. We were quiet.

"I'm so sorry," he finally whispered.

"So am I."

After a while my breathing slowed, and silence descended on the camp like a milky fog. My thoughts were still whirling around the dead man a few feet away from me, and the living one next to me; I was trying to determine which one I loved more. If the answer was Patroclus, it meant that I had betrayed the years of kindness Hector had shown me. If it was the prince, then I did not deserve my friend.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the appearance of a hooded figure moving towards the tent. Patroclus stiffened and watched it disappear behind the leather straps, but I kept watching. Whoever it was had been so dead set on completing what they had set out to accomplish, they had completely ignored my friend and I where we sat, so close to their path. Something about the aged but dignified walk that had possessed the person seemed familiar to me. I had seen it before, but I couldn't place where.

From inside the tent, there were voices. I sat up and strained to hear what they were saying.

"Who are you?" Achilles was asking the stranger.

"I have endured what no one before me has endured before," came the weary response. "I kiss the hands of the man who killed my son."

I stood so abruptly Patroclus almost fell over. I knew who was speaking with Achilles, and, feeling compelled to make my presence known to him, I walked into the tent.

My words mirrored those of Achilles.

"Priam."

The king of Troy turned at the sound of the new voice to look at me in surprise.

"Myla!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

I swallowed hard, and my voice was quiet.

"He didn't tell you yesterday?"

As if to emphasize my point, Patroclus entered the tent and stood beside me. He surveyed Priam with a look of pity and respect, and the king, on seeing my friend, seemed to understand my question. He nodded and turned back to Achilles.

"We should go," I whispered to Patroclus as the two resumed their conversation. I knew why the king was here; he had come to beg for the body and soul of his eldest son. It was the only logical thing to do in his situation. Priam may have loved his country, but, if possible, he loved Hector more.

We made our way slowly down to the beach. The moon had finally risen to light the sand and waves, and as we approached I saw yet another familiar figure facing the sea.

"Briseis!" I called. Something about her demeanor was wrong, and I assumed it probably had to do with the events surrounding Hector's death.

"You're alive," she said to Patroclus. It was an unsurprised statement rather than a shocked one, and my friend simply nodded.

She turned back to the water and whispered.

"So it was all for nothing."

I exchanged a quick glance with Patroclus, who by now was probably starting to feel rather guilty about the whole situation, and sat down.

"You know then?" I asked unnecessarily. She snorted.

"I was there when Achilles received the news," she said softly. "It was hard to tell if he was more livid or heartbroken."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" I asked.

"No." There was a pause, and she quietly added, "At least, not physically."

None of us spoke for a while. I thought about Priam and Achilles back in the tent, and wondered if the king had managed to barter for his son's body. Achilles could be stubborn, but since he knew that Hector's death was pointless, perhaps he would be more inclined to show mercy.

There was movement from further up the beach, and it occurred to me that I had forgotten to tell Briseis that her uncle was in the camp.

"Do you think he succeeded?" Patroclus asked, reading my thoughts.

"I'm not sure," I confessed. "He's your cousin, after all; I thought you might know."

"What do you mean?" Briseis asked.

"Priam is here," I told her. "He came for Hector."

She sprang to her feet.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she said as she hurried away.

I looked back to Patroclus.

"Even if he didn't get back Hector's body," I said slowly, "I still have to return to Troy."

My friend nodded.

"I wish there was another way," I whispered.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and smiled.

"There is," he said.

When we got back up to the tents, Achilles was talking to Priam about a twelve-day armistice for Hector's funeral games. Briseis waited by a cart that held what I could only assume was the body of the prince wrapped in a blanket. I went to stand by her as Patroclus approached the two men.

"What's he doing?" Briseis whispered to me. I would have told her, but at that moment Priam spoke.

"What is your name, young man?" he asked. My friend swallowed.

"Patroclus, son of Menoetius," he said. There was a pause. "If it's not out of line, your Highness, I'd like to ask something of you."

"Asking is never out of line."

Patroclus took a deep breath, and I realized my fists were clenched. My friend turned so he was facing Achilles as well as the king before continuing.

"I'm sure you know by now about –" he motioned towards me. "– Myla and I."

Priam nodded.

"In light of…recent events, we've decided on something. If it's all right with you, I'd like to come back to Troy with Myla."

Achilles stiffened and looked at his cousin with a blank expression. Priam appeared to be thinking over the request, and I held my breath as he cleared his throat to answer.

"I see no reason why not."

I relaxed, and Patroclus smiled.

"Thank you."

For the first time, the king gave a small grin and nodded before walking away, leaving Achilles and his cousin alone. I wasn't sure if I should listen to what they were saying, but in the end curiosity got the better of me.

Patroclus shuffled his feet.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Achilles asked.

"Yes."

He sighed.

"Then I suppose I have nothing more to say."

There was a moment of silence.

"It's not that I've stopped caring about everything else," Patroclus explained. "It's just…"

He stopped moving, sighed, and looked at his cousin.

"This is no longer my war."

"I understand."

I had something I needed to say. I left my place beside Briseis and walked over to the men. I approached Achilles and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you," I said, "for bringing him here."

The man nodded.

"Keep him safe," he told me.

"I will."

The cousins embraced each other before Patroclus finally walked to me. We mounted the horse from our earlier trip and stood waiting for Priam and Briseis.

"You're a far better king than the one leading this army," Achilles said to the king. He nodded, and we turned towards the walls of Troy.


End file.
